For Good or Bad, the Memories Remain
by Aradan
Summary: Buffy is consumed with something she doesn't remember,and the past can haunt anyone New chapter posted, Ch 47, with more to come Thanks for the reviews, I hope I'm keeping you guys interested
1. For Good or Bad, the Memories Remain

**For Good or Bad, The Memories Remain.**

Disclaimer-I don't own BTVS, nor the impending crossover, I only own my created characters, for all the good that does me.

Buffy wakes up, a scream tearing at the back of her throat, unable to break free. Stark terror deep in her eyes, she struggles to bring some semblance of control back to her trembling form. The dreams deny her sleep, and are coming more frequently. She stumbles to the bathroom to splash some water on her face in a vain attempt to recover from another most unrestful night.

"Willow, wake up! You've got to help me, I can't stand the nightmares, they wake me up, and I can't even remember what they are, I just know I'm terrified, and the sheets are soaked." She pleaded

Willow looked at her friend, stunned by her normally glowing, bouncy friend's unsettlingly spiral into wasted oblivion." When did all this start?"

"About a week ago, right after we found that girl in the cemetery"

"Do you think that might have anything to do with it? She was pretty scary looking."

"Willow, we've seen Ichlu Demons, vampires galore, the Mayor as a true demon and the rise and fall of the parachute pant. That girl wasn't scary, she was sad. I don't know how she got that way but I know I'll never end up like that."

"So, about this spell you want. You wanting something to make the dreams go away or to remember what they are? Wait, more importantly, did you ask Giles?"

"Giles is wrapped up in research mode on the new girl and I don't want him wiggin more than he already does until I get some answers."

"Well, it would take a little time to research the right spell and get the stuff, so give me some time"

"Be quick about it, I can't sleep anymore. I don't know what to do. It's turning me into a zombie....the bumping into things non thinking kind, not the b rate movie dead kind."

Several hours later....

"Buffy, I think I have it. The spell of Daloc is supposed to sharpen and restore all lost memories. Hmmm, 'all'. I don't know, 'all' might be bad. You might get all clogged up with 5th grade reading assignments"

I don't think that 'all' should be a problem, I might even remember where I put those white flats I lost last month. How long will this take?"

"It depends on the amount of memories needed to be restored. It looks like about 3-5 minutes should do it unless you're all scrambled. Then it should only take a few more minutes to finish."

The room was barren except for a chalk symbol and the requisite candles. Buffy lay in the middle of the floor. Willow began the chant; a soft glow filled the room.

'Cool, this should work' thought Willow, just before a surge hit. The glow became a blaze of light, and Buffy rose off the floor writhing as if she were being electrocuted.

Giles was digging into his tomes, looking for anything that would corroborate what he was able to get out of her delirious rambles, as incredible as her story sounded.

The scarred and battered girl lay on the bed, deep in a feverish state, as she has been since Buffy found her in one of the cemeteries lying in a large pile of vamp dust, stake in hand. She was covered in her own blood.

Earlier that week......

At first glance, she is a beautiful young woman but as you get closer, you can see the fine lines of time, stress and violence etched in her once porcelain features. Her face is drawn and gaunt, her once vibrant blue eyes holding a sunken and tormented quality within their pale grey depths where once joy and innocence reigned. Her tall frame is rail thin, just muscle and sinew pulled taught over bone. Her movements are hauntingly graceful and brutally quick, vicious like watching a cheetah on the prowl. She is a person driven by her need to destroy her own personal demons, knowing she could never erase nor forget what has happened to her. If she were to misplace those memories for a moment or two, all it would take to remind her would be to glance in a mirror. Her scars are still quite visible to her, first the horrible ritualistic ones from the lynch mob, and the later ones from the many years of continual combat. The agony of just walking was once overwhelming, but she has lived with it for so long that life without pain is barely a memory. She has been fighting so much for so long that the idea of a quiet happy life without violence is but a wisp of memory. Her system is so torn up from the magics and the conflicts that coughing up blood is the norm now, yet her body and mind refuse to quit, refuse to give in. She hears them coming for her, several by the sound of it. Maybe they will finally get her, but they won't win. She was sure of that.

Tara stops by in the morning to see Willow and is shocked by what she sees. The room is in total disarray, Buffy is floating in a pool of glowing light and Willow is lying in the floor. She rushes to Willow fearing the worst.

To Be Continued

All Reviews Welcomed


	2. For Good or Bad Ch 2

**For Good or Bad, The Memories Remain. **

**Chapter 2**

Disclaimer- I don't own Buffy, I just use her in my writing, just for fun, never for profit "Cause that's wrong!"

Spoilers- mid 4th season then everything takes a left turn off the charted path

Rating- May get to R eventually

Giles was drawn from his research by the sound of screaming and crying. His new charge was having some sort of nightmare. From the looks of her thrashing, a rather traumatic one. He didn't know if he preferred this or the rambling in her sleep in tongues he was shocked to hear from one who appeared so young. He had taken to recording those to translate later since some of them he couldn't follow fast enough. He sat on the edge of the bed and tried to comfort her as best he could, but she still hadn't regained lucid consciousness in the past week, and he was running out of ideas.

The pounding on his door woke him up where he had dozed in her room. Glancing at the daylight streaming in the window, he realized it was morning finally. With slow deliberate motions to avoid disturbing her, he headed out of the room to silence the incessant banging at the door. He flings open the door to revel a panicky Xander Harris.

"Giles! YougottacomenowandhelpTarasaveBuffy!!!"

"Slow Down! What is it your banging on my door at" he glances at his watch "7:18 in the morning for? And speak slowly man!"

"It's Buffy and Willow. They're caught in some sort of spell. Tara sent me to get you. She needs your help to free them."

"Good god, where?" grabbing Xander's arm and pulling him inside.

"They're over in Willow and Buffy's room, but why are you pulling me inside?"

"I just need to grab a few things we may need."

Whump!

"Giles? Do you have some really big mice upstairs?"

Giles runs for the stairs.

She never got used to the blood. It got in her clothes, on her hands, in her hair. It stained like dye. When it was wet, it was slicker than oil. When it dried, it was hard as concrete. The thing that got to her most was the smell. Like an old penny, the coppery smell could still be detected long after the blood was spilled. After so many years, she couldn't get the smell out of her nose. Some days it still made her skin crawl but sadly not as much nor as often as it should. She had been covered in her own blood too many times to count, which was nowhere near as bad as holding them while the last of their life oozes through her fingers regardless of anything she does to try and stop it. The part that scares her most is that no matter how terrified they are to die, they look so peaceful once they have passed. She feels not only sorrow but a bit of wistful longing for that same peace.

Giles runs into the spare bedroom to find the woman he left asleep in the bed is now on the floor and has drug herself to a corner of the room. Her eyes dart wildly over the room in an apparent panic.

"Qua sum EGO?" she whispers. "Quisnam es vos?"

Giles' brain tried to shift gears without a clutch. This language is no longer used conversationally except by academics trying to show off. That's why Latin is called a dead language, yet she was rambling feverishly in her sleep in this same tongue.. 'Where am I' and 'who are you ' his brain deciphers, the easy part. Now for the hard part, especially without a cup of tea and with the other pressing issue of helping Buffy and Willow pounding in the back of his head. How do you say 'we found you injured in the cemetery'?

"Ah...nos instituo vos vulnero in cemetery"

Just then Xander joins them, earning him a quick glance and attempted further retreat.

"What's with all the foreign talk G man? I mean Whoa!..........I didn't mean to startle her, I just seem to have that effect on women. I just dazzle them with my.."

"Shut UP Xander! Latin is hard enough without you blathering in my ear! Go to the hall closet and get two towels and the spare robe and bring it back here. I need to try and make her understand we mean her no harm and to wait here for my return."

He turns back to the young woman.

"Is est meus domus. Vos es tutus hic. EGO sum decessio alexander hic iuvo vos si vos postulo is. Commodo sileo til EGO ulciscor."

She seems to partially relax.

"What was that about Alexander? I heard my name, what about me?" upon his return with the towels.

"I told her 'This is my house. You are safe here. I am leaving Alexander here to help you if you need it. Please rest until I get back' Now, unless you would rather go try and undue spells, I need you to stay here." He turns to her. "EGO ero tergum" and to Xander "I'll be back"

"Giles WAIT! How am I ...going to talk to her" he trails off since Giles didn't even slow down in his exit.

To Be Continued

All Reviews Welcome


	3. For Good or Bad Ch 3

**For Good or Bad, The Memories Remain. **

**Chapter 3**

Disclaimer- I don't still own Buffy and crew, I just use them in my writing, just for fun, never for profit "Cause that's wrong!"

Spoilers- mid 4th season then everything takes a left turn off the charted path

Rating- May get to R eventually

The sight that greeted him when he walked into the room was one he wasn't quite ready for. Buffy's body was hovering a foot above the floor, suspended by a glowing force. Her small frame drenched in sweat, her muscles twitching and jerking randomly to some unheard beat. Tara sat in the corner cradling Willow's head in her lap.

"Giles, I don't know how to stop what she started, I don't even know what spell they were doing"

"Tara, how is Willow? Is she hurt?"

"She's drained, I can't wake her. I'm worried."

Giles walked around Buffy's form, trying to figure any of it out. His hair stood on end with the surging power swirling in the room. He could feel the ebb and flow as energy seemed to be streaming into her.

"Tara, she can't wake until the spell she's tied to is complete, I think she'll be fine. I don't see any easy way to break this spell though. It might be best to let it finish."

She staggered to her feet, took the towels from the bed and headed for the bathroom, all the while keeping a careful eye on Xander. Xander meanwhile was trying to be not so obvious in his visual appraisal of her form.

His eyes failed to be controlled easily. Her form was long and thin, yet had an underlying muscular build. She moved like a ballerina or a cat, ok maybe a drunken ballerina or cat. She was still weak and wobbled on the way to the bathroom.

"Oh god, to be a loofa"

The water felt good. Her muscles were tight from lying in bed for so long. She took full advantage of the situation to scrub thoroughly, to try and feel truly clean for a change. She was tired of running and if she had been here unconscious for a week and lived, then maybe she had shaken her pursuers. If so, then she could allow herself the luxury of a wee bit of down time. Thee older man was able to understand her when she spoke so he should be her watcher.....or a doctor or a pharmacist or a high school Latin teacher. The pessimist in her resurfaced. She wished she could remember what language the older gentleman spoke to the young one in. Just wishful thinking that finding the slayer would be this easy. Well Genvieve always told her that sometimes the bold approach was the best, especially if it got you what you needed. All the earlier cuts and scrapes had healed, but she could still see the white lines of the scars from deeper wounds, ones that should have killed or crippled her. She pulled at the tangles in her hair, trying to get it clean for a change. Once again she thought about cutting it, and once again she found that she couldn't really part with her long hair without a better reason than convenience. She dried off and tried brushing her hair, hoping for better results now that it had been washed and conditioned. Unrestrained, it fell to just below her shoulder blades in a black curly mass, seeming to have a life of its own. She looked around the bathroom for clothes before she remembered that she saw her bag in the bedroom but hadn't thought to grab any prior to stumbling in here. 'Oh well, I got over modesty years ago.' She wrapped a towel around her waist and left the bathroom.

Buffy dropped limp on the floor as the glow faded. Giles rushed to her.

"She's still breathing. See if you can rouse Willow to find out what the spell was."

Tara takes Willow's head in her hands and speaks softly to her "C'mon baby, wake up. We need to know what the spell was. You need to tell us."

Willow starts to move and then tenses up and begins sobbing uncontrollably.

Tara looks at Giles and begins trying to comfort the balling and shuddering red-head.

"Giles, what should we do?"

Giles starts to answer when he realizes Willow is muttering under her breath. "Tara, what is she saying?"

Tara leans down closer to listen, the words barely discernable through the sobbing.

"She just keeps saying 'what have I done? Oh goddess, I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't know!' "

Willow stops for a brief moment, looking up at Tara whispers "Daloc" and passes out.

Xander wakes up with a pounding headache. He realizes he is lying on the bed so recently occupied by the woman Giles had left him to help. He tries to piece together how he ended up on the bed. He remembers walking across the room to go out on the balcony when 'She' comes out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel around her waist, a pain in his foot, followed by a falling sensation and then here he wakes up.

To Be Continued

All Reviews Welcome


	4. For Good or Bad Ch 4

**For Good or Bad, The Memories Remain. **

**Chapter 4**

Disclaimer- I don't still own Buffy and crew, I just use them in my writing, just for fun, never for profit "Cause that's wrong!"

Spoilers- mid 4th season then everything takes a left turn off the charted path

Rating- May get to R eventually

"Daloc.....Daloc.....Ah, here it is. ........................Oh my! That's not good" Giles exclaimed, sitting back from the table and cleaning his glasses.

"What's not good?" Tara queried looking up from the tome she was reading.

"The Spell of Daloc is used to restore memories to someone that they forgot, or to put them so you could access them all."

"And what's wrong with that? Is remembering a bad thing?"

"Well, it's not selective in what ones it brings back. You can't pick and chose which ones you get. You get all of them. Your being teased by a 3rd grade bully on a snowy Tuesday afternoon, skinning your knee one Wednesday afternoon last week, dropping an ice cream cone, on top of all the bad things we suppress, such as bad dates, colds, and since we are here in the Hellmouth, every bad thing we witness, the deaths of friends and strangers, the struggles ect. Not to mention all the emotions that goes along with it." Giles goes back to reading the info as Tara digests the info she has received.

"Oh God! Tara! It's worse than I thought!" Giles whispered. "The Spell of Daloc is able to work by removing the memories unshuffling or unburying them and put them back in. But, to do so, they must be put somewhere to organize them, kinda like organizing a deck of cards is easier if you spread them out on a table. Unfortunately for Willow, the table is her mind. The spell puts all a persons lifetime of memories and emotions into the spellcasters head. They experience it all first hand, all in one big lump. Willow just received everything Buffy ever did or felt in her entire life. Daloc used it to steal knowledge and power from people and later there were a few times it was used as a punishment. It's irreversible. Willow will now remember everything Buffy Summers has ever, seen, done, experienced or felt. She knows what it felt like to be killed by the Master, to love Angel, to kill Angel, and she's swapped bodies with Faith. I have no idea what all of these extra memories and emotions suddenly dumped into her will do to her. I fear for her sanity."

Tara could do nothing but hold Willow and try to comfort her as Willow sobbed in her sleep.

Xander heard some noise downstairs through the pounding in his skull. 'Great, I hope it's the woman, otherwise I'm up here letting Giles get robbed after loosing the girl I'm supposed to help.' He said as he tried to stumble to the stairs. The scene that greeted him was not what he was expecting. The woman was sitting in the wing backed chair in the living room, sipping from a teacup while perusing one of Giles' Watcher Tomes. She seemed quite sad or distraught at what she was reading, muttering to herself too low to be heard.

"God, they die so young! But then their struggle is over. At least I now know I'm in the right place to find the Watcher. I just hope this Slayer fairs better than most of the others, I hate watching them die." Her tea had grown cold and almost as bitter as the tears coursing unbidden down her pale cheeks. She stood to go for more tea when she noticed the young man from the bedroom standing on the stairs watching her.

He had stood there just watching her for quite a few minutes. Her thin frame in that big chair made her look small and vulnerable, even before he saw the tears streaming down. She picked up her teacup and grimaced at the flavor in her cup. When she stood and turned, she locked eyes with him. Her pale face was framed by her coal black hair, its curly mass flowing down over her shoulders. He watched her eyes go from sad and hurt to steel, hard and impenetrable.

"Come on down, you can join me for some tea. I have questions."

Her voice was right out of all those cold war spy movies he had watched. She had a not-to-thick-but-noticeable accent right out of Eastern Europe. Not harsh like a B-movie, soft like a first rate one.

"It's ok, you can come down. I won't hurt you."

Xander made his way slowly down the stairs and followed her into the kitchen. He couldn't help but to come to the startling realization that she was as tall or taller than he was. Her long thin figure looked almost like a funhouse mirror image, except for the obvious muscles in her arms, back and shoulders that were visible from the dark grey tank top she had to have painted on.

She poured another cup of tea for herself and one for Xander and returned to the living room, Xander following her all the way. She sat in the wing backed chair and motioned Xander to the couch.

"I am Rhavyn, and I have come to meet the Slayer"

To Be Continued

All Reviews Welcome


	5. For Good or Bad Ch 5

**For Good or Bad, The Memories Remain. **

**Chapter 5**

Disclaimer- I don't still own Buffy and crew, I just use them in my writing, just for fun, never for profit "Cause that's wrong!"

Spoilers- mid 4th season then everything takes a left turn off the charted path

Rating- May get to R eventually

She couldn't make heads nor tails of it all. The pain, the death, the agony. She didn't know who she was, where she was any more. The faces of people dead in her arms, dead by her hand, dead in spite of everything she could do to protect them. No end in site. No hope of survival.

Tara and Giles had both fallen asleep in the room with Willow and Buffy. The phone woke them up. Tara was closer and picked up. After a brief conversation she hung up and turned to Giles.

"Giles, that was Xander. He said to tell you 'she's up and moving around and wants to talk to the Slayers' Watcher' which I would guess that means that she knows about all the Hellmouth stuff and things"

"Well I guess that means she can speak more than just Latin. I should get back to the house to help with crisis number two. I figure problem three will show up sometime around supper. This is the Hellmouth you know." Trying to be flip but obviously disturbed by this whole sequence of events.

Xander was completely entranced with Rhavyn, He knew that some of it was purely the eye candy appeal of her taught muscular form and her cat like grace, but some it was the soft way she spoke, and that accent! They had talked for hours it seemed and before he knew what he was doing he had told her about the whole Buffy/Slayer history according to Xander, along with the recent Faith episode. When he ran out of story, she prompted him to call Giles.

When Giles arrived, he was mildly surprised to find Xander gone and his houseguest setting forth fresh tea in the living room. Her recovery was remarkable. He barely recognized her as the same broken battered scruffy shell of a young lady Buffy had brought home from the graveyard. She was quite tall, almost as tall as him. Her hair, now that it had been unmated, washed and brushed out, flowed in a thick coal-black mass, offsetting her pale features and eyes. Her simple attire also did some most flattering things for her figure. She was dressed in a grey tank top, faded blue jeans, and black knee high boots. A small Gothic cross adorned her neck. She looked up at him with a slight smile as she sat on the couch.

"I understand I have you to thank for my care and recovery. I don't know how to thank you enough. I guess the fates led me to the right place after all."

Giles was a bit mesmerized by her beguiling accent, her words barely above a whisper.

"Ah...Yes. It was the least I could do." He finally stammers out.

"No, the least would have been to leave me there to be taken by the next vampire or demon to come along, or to dump me off at some hospital. Both of which would have been bad. I came here to find the Slayer and her Watcher whether intentionally or unintentionally. You see, I have been doing a study of Watchers and Slayers for a while," she pauses chuckling "quite a while."

"Ah.. Miss...."

"Rhavyn, call me Rhavyn."

"Yes, Miss Rhavyn, why are you seeking info on Slayer, perhaps starting with where did you find out about them?"

"I will get to that later. I wish no harm to your charge rest assured. Actually she is quite safe from me. As for you, from what I've learned about your relation with your Slayer, you should be safe. Most of the time Watchers dealing with Slayers and Potential Slayers are quite draconian in their dealings, prohibiting most things that are the essential aspects of humanity. No friends, stripped from their families, driven toward an impossible level of perfection with no hope of a single change in their relentless yet short lived lives save death. Always the whole thing perpetuated on a poor unsuspecting 12-16 year old girl with no hope of living to see 20. There are notable exceptions to this pattern, but they are few and far between, maybe 1 in 100 Slayers has someone who truly cares for them in the last days, months, years of their oh so thankless existence. The rest are treated like tools or pets; something trained to do work, and when it's broke, you go get another one. Meanwhile the poor Slayer, the one girl in all the world blessed with the power, speed, and senses to fight the agents of demonic evil, she spends her last waking existence drowning in a sea of self pity, despair and horror at all she has seen and had to do." She sat staring into her teacup, a glazed look in her eyes as a single unnoticed tear slid down her cheek.

Her voice had not risen above the almost whisper that she started at, but the shear force of conviction and venom in her voice plunged into Giles like a knife. It was quite obvious that for some reason this woman greatly empathized with the Slayers and has a deep seated hatred for the Watchers, but for some reason he felt himself get defensive.

"Now see here Rhavyn, I don't know what you've read or seen, but there is more at stake than the Slayer's life or happiness. The fate of the world frequently rests in the hands of our young charges and sometimes it takes unpleasant methods to prepare for such a thing! I don't know who you think you are or what you've read, but you haven't a clue about what it is to be the Slayer!"

At his statement, a cold, tight lipped smile appeared on her pale face.

"Perhaps a better introduction is in order, my proper name is Sasha Hannachen, but your chronicles have dubbed me 'Ghost'"

The teacup in Giles' hand falls, shattering on the floor.

To Be Continued

All Reviews Welcome


	6. For Good or Bad Ch 6

**For Good or Bad, The Memories Remain. **

**Chapter 6**

Disclaimer- I don't still own Buffy and crew, I just use them in my writing, just for fun, never for profit "Cause that's wrong!"

Spoilers- mid 4th season then everything takes a left turn off the charted path

Rating- May get to R eventually

Ghost. A myth. A legendary Slayer reputed to be Immortal. She appeared in the writings about 270 years ago. A Slayer of exceptional skill in Central Europe who was reported to be dead began showing up around other Slayers, frequently ether just before or just after their Watcher dies. The descriptions were never very clear but always similar; tall wraith-like figure moving with a level of combat skill beyond any the witnesses had ever seen. There are accounts of a particular Watcher receiving a visitor in the middle of the night carrying a bundle. The cloaked visitor brings the bundle in, lays it down and tells him in a whisper 'She didn't die alone; I was with her in the end. Bury her well, she earned it" and handed him a pouch containing 40 gold doubloons. When he looked up at the cloaked figure, all he could see was two pale blue eyes peering out as she turned away. Without another sound she vanished. She has also been seen holding the body of a dying Slayer or at funerals. She was rumored to be behind mysterious elaborate funeral arrangements for penniless Slayers. At one point she had been likened to a specter of death, a bad omen. As a young Watcher in training, he had studied the Slayer myths and legends. Ghost was one of the ones that most intrigued him since you would every now and then still get a report or a sighting, usually passed off as a too young Watcher with an overactive imagination. There were older legends of undying Slayers but the only one that seemed to resurface within modern times was Ghost. Sure it was every young Watcher's dream to stumble onto Genvieve the Invincible or amber eyed Johneen, the unstoppable Slayers of the 12th and 16th century who each were supposedly still reported to be slaying over 150 years after they were originally reported killed by their respective Watchers, but it's one thing to wish to find a woman of legendary power and beauty, and quite another to find a reputed harbinger of Death. He had gone through the records and tried to match Ghost up to a particular Slayer in the archives and, like so many before him had drawn a blank time and again until he stumbled on a fragment of diary misfiled in another journal. He never showed it to anyone since it was in his father's journal and figured it was left there for him. His father had been obsessed with Genvieve and had come across this fragment of a report the she was seen at a Slayer named Sasha Hannachen's last battle. When Sasha fell to a fatal chest wound, Genvieve went into a killing frenzy, slaughtering all the remaining demons. She then picked up Sasha's body and vanished into the fog. All of this was witnessed by a young girl that had been taken by the demons who was saved by Sasha. Many years later the young girl, now a woman with her own children, had one of her girls taken from the yard at twilight. Later in the middle of the night, there was a knock on the door; it was a tall cloaked figure holding the hand of her missing daughter. As she knelt down to her child, she looked up at the figure. What she saw shocked her; it was Sasha, looking exactly as she had on the evening she had saved her. 'How' she exclaimed. 'Easy, I'm a Ghost' the figure replied. This was the true origin of her nickname and the start of the legend. Giles had it only because his father's obsession with all things Genvieve. But what to do now? Her appearance has always been reputed to be foreshadowing of death. 'Is she here for me or is it Buffy?'

To Be Continued

All Reviews Welcome


	7. For Good or Bad Ch 7

**For Good or Bad, The Memories Remain. **

**Chapter 7**

Disclaimer- I don't still own Buffy and crew, I just use them in my writing, just for fun, never for profit "Cause that's wrong!"

Spoilers- mid 4th season then everything takes a left turn off the charted path

Rating- May get to R eventually

Xander brought breakfast on the way to see how Willow and Buffy were doing. When he left Tara last night they were still unconscious. Willow seemed to be much worse off. This was understandable, from what Tara told him about the spells effects. Good grief, Buffy had her whole life to absorb her memories; Willow got them all at once. Tara answered the door right away.

"Xander, she's gone!"

"Who, Buffy?"

"No, Willow! She vanished in the middle of the night. Buffy's still inside. We have to find Willow!."

"Tara, the only one who might know where she went is Buffy. We have to wake her."

They were both standing there when the lights went out.

The violent thunderstorms had been going all night and all day. The gloom was so deep that noon appeared as twilight. Few things ventured into the downpour. Those that did were predators. It soaked everything, turned everything muddy and grey.

The memories lay in a cold harsh pile in her mind like a scrapbook had exploded at her feet. She could see each and every one, without the comfort of time to soothe the jagged edges. She knew what had happened and why, but it was no solace compared to all of the raw emotion coursing through her mind. Pain, sorrow, grief, despair, regret were all present in bucket loads. All of the things she had tried so hard to repress came screaming to the forefront.

"I see you know enough to now realize that I do have a decent frame of reference to speak of Slayers and Watchers"

"Yes, I guess you are eminently qualified. But that poses the next question; Now what?"

"I've received the crib note version of your Slayer's history. I now want your version."

"Where should I start?"

The rain chilled her to the bone but she hardly noticed. All the memories pounding in her head, she couldn't keep it straight. So much pain! So much grief! And oh so much death! She had no idea it was possible for one person to have suffered so much for so very long. If only she had known, she'd not done the spell, or had the spell done on her? Wait, which was it? She was becoming so confused. Which parts were her and which parts were the other girl? All this time she had been walking and wasn't sure where she was going nor why. .

The flickering candles threw long shadows across her delicate face. Xander looked on while Tara tried to wake Buffy.

"Tara, she looks so fragile. How does she do it? I mean, with all the strength and skill she has, you would expect her to be bigger, you know, all She-Hulky or such. Instead she looks so tiny."

"Buffy, you've got to wake up, we need you. Please."

Tara was gently shaking Buffy when, all of a sudden, Buffy sat up, her eyes big as saucers. When she sat up, her face was a scant foot or two from Xander. He was looking in her eyes when he saw them change, going from normal Buffy look to a deep haunted look in her unfocused eyes.

"Buffy, thank God you're awake! We were worried because of the spell. Did it work? Are you ok?

"Xander?" she whispered. "Yeah, the spell worked. I have my memories back. All of them, more's the pity. Hi Tara, why so worried looking? Where's Will?"

To Be Continued

All Reviews Welcome


	8. For Good or Bad Ch 8

**For Good or Bad, The Memories Remain. **

**Chapter 8**

Disclaimer- I don't still own Buffy and crew, I just use them in my writing, just for fun, never for profit "Cause that's wrong!"

Spoilers- mid 4th season then everything takes a left turn off the charted path

Rating- May get to R eventually

"Genvieve's story was hers and I will not tell it. I didn't come here to tell you my story. I came here to help this Slayer and to determine if she needed to be liberated from her Watcher. Fortunately for you, you have treated your charge with the utmost respect and have not tried the normal heavy handed tactics of most of your branch of the Order."

"Will you at least tell me if the scrap I have is true? Did she spirit you away from your supposed deadly battle?"

"I was hurt, horribly wounded. You can still make out some of the scar" as she pulls the edge of her tank top a bit lower on the left side. Barely visible against her pale skin is the even whiter lines of old scar tissue spiderwebing out for more than a hand span. "I was faint from blood loss, I don't remember much for quite a while. She nursed my back to health and began training me further than my Watcher ever did. My Watcher's motivational techniques were usually emphasized a whip. He justified it by saying that I needed to be used to pain. He justified quite a bit that I never forgave him for. She taught me my battle tactics, and more. She taught me to read and write in several languages, different modes of dress, and weapons skill beyond compare. Other than that I will not speak of her. But this is enough about me. Where is your young charge?

"She's recovering from a spell to retrieve hidden memories that was cast by one of her friends, much to her detriment. Unfortunately the spell has an unfortunate side effect unknown to Willow. She now has all of Buffy's, the Slayers', memories. I'm sure Buffy will be fine, but I'm worried about Willow. She's received an entire lifetime worth of memories emotion and experience in one fell swoop. "

"We need to go look for Willow, she's not well.. The spell she did on you had some side effects on her."

"What kind of side effects, Tara?"

"You know how you got all your memories returned, all sharp and clear, right?

"Yeah" standing up to get dressed.

"Well Willow got all of your memories too, all of them at once, just as sharp, in one big lump."

"Oh ....God!" Buffy slumps onto the bed a distant look in her eyes.

Xander steps up.

"Buffy! Come on! We have to find Willow!"

Buffy mutters to herself, babbling "The things I've done, the things I've felt, Willow got it all. No one should have to go through that. And it's my fault!"

"Buffy come on! Snap out of it! You survived! So will Willow! But we have to find her. It's getting dark and she is in no condition to fight off the local vamps."

"Xander, you don't understand. Some of the things I've done make Faith look like a non-violent nun. I condemned her for being evil after some of the things I've done. And now Willow knows it all. How can I face her?"

"Will won't hate you. It's not in her."

"It is now"

"Buffy we have to find her" Tara exclaims as she gets her coat.

Buffy sits with her hands over her face for a moment, then looks at the two of them.

"Your right. Excuse me for a moment while I get dressed."

"Come on Tara, let's wait outside."

Buffy went to the closet. She reached into the back of the closet and pulled out some clothes she hadn't worn in quite a while. She stepped out to join Tara and Xander. Xander did a double take. Buffy looked so completely different, from the way she stood to the way her hair was pulled down in its loose natural curls as opposed to tucked back like normal. Her already smooth and fluid movements were now much more refined and finite, like a ballerina. Her normal bouncy attitude was absent. She now seemed weary and worn down. She was dressed in a simple grey sweater and dark pants, her soft soled boots came up to her knees. A square-bladed short-handled field shovel was in her hands.

"Xander, Tara, let's go find Willow. On the way, we need to pick up something."

To Be Continued

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	9. For Good or Bad Ch 9

**For Good or Bad, The Memories Remain. **

**Chapter 9**

Disclaimer- I don't still own Buffy and crew, I just use them in my writing, just for fun, never for profit "Cause that's wrong!"

Spoilers- mid 4th season then everything takes a left turn off the charted path

Rating- May get to R eventually

The weather had worsened. Lightning crashed all around. The thunder was deafening. The downpour continued. Buffy led them to one of the lesser used cemeteries in town. The smell of ozone filled the air. As they got closer to the cemetery, they could see several trees had been ravaged by lightning. The rain came down in buckets. Visibility was virtually non existent yet Buffy led them unerringly to a particular grave under an ancient elm tree, the tombstone's worn inscription unreadable in the gloom. In the relative shelter of the tree's spreading branches, Buffy began to dig near the headstone.

Xander's curiosity couldn't take it any more,

"Ah Buffy, I think there are enough people digging themselves up around here without you looking to help out."

"Don't worry, just something I squirreled away for a rainy day" She looks up at Xander with a bit of a grin as she continues to dig.

Tara and Xander look nervously around, keeping an eye out for vamps and such while Buffy continues to excavate.

After several minutes, Buffy appears to have found what she was after. She pulls a small footlocker from the hole. Upon opening the box, Buffy began shoving several of the items inside into her pockets. Xander saw several sets of papers, a wallet, some keys, and a few other things he couldn't identify be transferred to Buffy's pockets. She also pulled Angel's ring off her finger and threw it in the box, replacing it with a larger crest type ring from the box.

Lightning crashed in the distance, sending another charge through the air, tingling across their skin. One of the last things she pulled from the box was a long knife or small sword, about as long as her arm. She looked at it for a moment, tested its edge and returned it to its scabbard, which she then strapped it in place to put the handle in the small of her back.

"Buffy, wouldn't a stake be better for Vamps?"

"Yeah, but this works for most everything else, and if you cut a vamp's arms and legs off, they don't get away when you leave them out for a suntan." She said in a voice almost as cold as her smile.

Meanwhile Tara was backing slowly away fro the pit, eyeing the sword carefully. She was sure that there were some serious magic in that blade. It made her skin crawl. She could almost see it covered in blood and fury. It had been quenched in the blood of countless demons, bringing them to their final end. Buffy handled it as casually as a dinner fork. Maybe she couldn't feel it. But she doubted it.

"Tara, Xander, let's go." Buffy stood from filling in the hole.

Xander was reminded of Faith's recent possession of Buffy in the way Buffy now moved, more predatory, but Faith was raw power on the move, whereas Buffy seemed to be more refined but no less powerful. The look in Buffy's eyes when she didn't realize Xander was looking was one of pain and sadness. 'Why do all the people I care about end up hurt?' he asked himself as he fell in beside Buffy, his long legs allowing a slight hope of keeping up with the Slayers pace.

Tara made sure she was slightly behind Buffy and Xander, more the better to keep an eye on the Slayer. So many things are different with her that Tara was a bit worried about maybe another possession except that Buffy's Aura was still at flow with her body, unlike when Faith switched. But the Aura was changed, much thicker, more powerful. She didn't know what memories she had suppressed, but if their return had such a remarkable change for Buffy, what would all of it do to the sweet, gentle redhead she loved?

To Be Continued

All Reviews Welcome


	10. For Good or Bad Ch 10

**For Good or Bad, The Memories Remain. **

**Chapter 10**

Disclaimer- I don't still own Buffy and crew, I just use them in my writing, just for fun, never for profit "Cause that's wrong!"

Spoilers- mid 4th season then everything takes a left turn off the charted path

Rating- May get to R eventually

She set the teacup down on the coffee table and stared at the watcher across from her. Part of her wanted nothing more than to leap over the table and kill him just for general principals but that would be unfair since he was one of the rare watchers that truly connected with his young charge. She prompted him to continue in his dissertation on the local history and hazards they had faced and fought. She was more than a little intrigued by the whole Angel affair. After a while he seemed to lose some of his stiffness, he seemed to temporarily forget who she was in their ongoing discussion of prophesy and such. They spoke about the inherent nature of the Hellmouth and all that it brought to town, along with a base comparison between Sunnydale's tourist attraction with some of the other known Hellmouths, most notably Cleveland and a rather ancient one in the Carpathian Mountains. He also pointed out that he had resigned from the Watchers rather than do harm to Buffy. This was a bit of a surprise to her but a pleasant one. The discussion went long into the afternoon and into early evening, the soft glow of the oil lamp more than making up for the lack of electricity. She realized she actually liked this watcher. That made it a bit bittersweet that she still would have to kill him.

The only warning Buffy had was the smell of wet dog. The noise of the rain and crashes of thunder stole away any sounds she might have heard. The flashes of lightning messed with her night vision, but the smell of wet dog gave her a few brief seconds warning before they arrived. All Xander saw was Buffy stop and put her hand on the hilt of the sword knife thing, when a dark mass raced into view a few feet from Buffy. She drew the blade and pivoted at the same time, her sword a blur of blackened steel. To say Xander was startled by the dog's head landing at his feet would be a severe understatement. The body's momentum carried it past the trio and slid on the lawn in a crumpled, tumbling mass.

"There may be more, they tend to use them in pairs. Here, take this" Buffy says, tossing Xander the shovel.

"Oh, yeah! Real great plan. It's dark and raining like hell, and I'm supposed to hit vicious attack dogs with a two foot shovel! OK, can there be another plan, because I'm not liking this one!"

Tara felt really out of her element. Research, spells and the like were more her cup of tea, not creeping around in cemeteries fighting attack dogs in the rain. She was dwelling on this when two more dogs attacked.

They came from the front, fast and silent. Xander in his highly paranoid state saw them almost as fast as Buffy did. They were too far apart for Buffy to engage both of them. Buffy stopped hers almost as dramatically as the first one Xander got a good piece of his but it made its way past him and slammed into Tara. Buffy heard the unmistakable sound of bone crushing even over Tara's scream. She hurried to rescue Tara, stabbing deep into the dog, hoping to destroy enough vitals to drop it before it succeeded in eviscerating Tara.

"Xander! Keep an eye out, there should be one more! Use the shovel like an ax!"

"What am I, Paul Bunyon?!"

Tara lay on the ground, the butchered dog on top of her. Buffy could see from the zig zag shape of her arm and the bright red blood pouring out of the wounds that she needed help soon. Buffy was able to drag the dog off of Tara so she could do a better survey of the damage. She didn't realize she was talking out loud during her scan of Tara's wounds.

"Shattered left Radius and Ulna, proximal to the elbow, multiple deep lacerations, compound fractures, exposed bone ends, arterial bleeding, and shock most definitely." She looked up to Xander "You've got to keep an eye out for that fourth dog, I need to do some stuff here" She stripped off her sweater, followed by her silk tank top. She then used the tank top to create a pressure dressing on Tara's wounded arm to control the bleeding. Tara wavered in and out of consciousness, sure she was hallucinating. She couldn't understand any other reason for why she would have this vision of a half nude Buffy leaning over her, not that she was complaining of the view. Buffy, having completed her bandaging sat back and put her sweater back on, the wool knit feeling a bit rough on her wet bare skin. "I'm going to end up with chaffed nipples for sure" she muttered to herself.

The rain had let up just a bit, letting them see a bit farther into the cemetery.

"Buffy, do you see that over there?"

Buffy turned to where Xander was pointing. A body lay on the ground, its head roughly separated from its normal place.

"Xander, I need you to take Tara to Giles. I need you to do this right now, no questions. She needs help and I need to find Willow." Buffy barked, a sharp tone in her voice that Xander wasn't used to hearing form her.

"Sure Buff, I'll just scoop her up, and trot on down the road. What's gotten into you? "

"I don't have time to argue, I need you and Tara out of here. Now!" Buffy exclaimed, her eyes focused in the distance, her blade in her hand. A low growl could be heard in the distance , along with guttural mutterings.

To Be Continued

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	11. For Good or Bad Ch 11

**For Good or Bad, The Memories Remain. **

**Chapter 11**

Disclaimer- I don't still own Buffy and crew, I just use them in my writing, just for fun, never for profit "Cause that's wrong!"

Spoilers- mid 4th season then everything takes a left turn off the charted path

Rating- May get to R eventually

The banging on the front door disrupted the friendly conversation that Giles and Sasha were having. As Giles went to the door, Sasha went to the kitchen with the long empty tea set. She paused in her cleaning up to her what Xander was babbling about.

"Giles! You've got to help Tara! I gotta go back out and help Buffy!"

"Your going nowhere, tell me what's going on."

Xander proceeded to give a rushed synopsis of this evenings events, including Buffy's little shovel activities, the suntan comment that startled him in its coldness, the dog fight, and the clear out order. It had definitely upset Xander to leave Buffy there by herself.

"Giles, I need to get back out there, I think Buffy needs help, she isn't acting like herself. I need to get out there."

"No, you stay here and help Tara; she will need to go to the hospital. I will go help Buffy. "Giles walked over to the trunk and began to gather weapons for his foray into the dark and stormy night.

Sasha came back into the room, and walked straight up to Giles.

"Rup, where do you think your going?

"I have to go help Buffy find Willow. She needs my help."

"I have a better idea, why don't you stay and help Xander and I'll go find your Slayer." She said in a soft voice as she began putting some of the weapons he had pulled back into the trunk. "Giles, I'm better equipped to do this"

"But she's my responsibility. I'm going. If you want to come, I would love the help, but I'm going."

"Ok, but if we get separated, I should know what the two we are looking for look like. Do you have a picture of them?"

Giles reached over to a mall alcove by the weapons trunk and produced a snapshot of Willow, Buffy and Xander on the front lawn of the high school.

"Buffy is the blond, and Willow is the red-head"

Sasha looked at the picture for a few moments, intently staring at the two girls until Giles shook her.

"Come on, we need to go"

Sasha looked at Giles with a unsettling expression on her face. "You said that Willow got all the memories of Buffy, the blond one?"

"Yes that's right, what of it?"

"And the red-head, Willow, is an accomplished witch?"

"Yes"

"Hurry up Giles; we have to find them right now!!!!" Sash began rummaging in the trunk for weapons, taking a long sword and heading for the front door, Giles struggling to keep up.

She fought them all, but there were so many of them. Only the rain washing away the blood kept her from being caked in it. As it was, she could still feel it on her, a sticky residue that she felt she could never get off, combined with vamp dust, dog gore, and human guts. She fought them all like she remembered so many times before. She was so tired, so weary, she had been going so long. The fatigue was getting to her, she was moving slower than she should, and her punches had less impact. Now she was down to the last five she could see. A fast leg sweep took the closest one down on his back long enough for her to drive her hand through his abdomen just below his sternum, angling upward to tear a hole in the diaphragm, scrambling some internal organs along the way. She knew she spent too much time with him when a boot grazed along the back of her skull, knocking her off balance. She landed sideways in the mud that had been churned up in the fight. As she struggled to get up, another boot lifted her off the ground, shattering several ribs and stealing every bit of air from her lungs. In that moment, she wasn't sure if she was going to survive the fight. After all she had survived, it seemed only proper to die in a cemetery, she had spent so much of her life in them. A selfish thought stole its way in, at least she wouldn't attend any more funerals but her own. As her brain gave up, her body continued to fight. She lashed out at the next one within reach with her foot, destroying a shin bone, dropping another one to the mud. Grabbing his head in her long thin fingers, she savagely twisted it to an unnatural angle, letting it flop loosely onto the ground below. Another blow to the back kept her off her feet, but didn't stop her from latching onto the arm of one of them. With a brutal jerking and twisting motion, she dislocated the shoulder, broke the elbow and snapped the bones in his forearm. While she was stretched out for that attack, a heavy blow with a staff struck her just below the base of the neck, sending her sprawling face first into the mud. She was hauled up onto her knees by her hair, her body one mass of pain, every breath an agonizing stab, every movement brought nausea. She looked over her shoulder at the man speaking to her.

"You put up one hell of a fight, you almost won. Almost. "He leaned down and whispered in her ear "I hope you said your prayers, Tell Elisabetha when you see her, I'll always hurt the ones she loves, just like she did to me!"

He struck from behind, the spear exploding downward through her chest with enough force that she could watch its head bury itself into the earth in front of her. Her hands gripped the shaft, trying to deign the inevitable. If only she could get free of the............

To Be Continued

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	12. For Good or Bad Ch 12

**For Good or Bad, The Memories Remain. **

**Chapter 12**

Disclaimer- I don't still own Buffy and crew, I just use them in my writing, just for fun, never for profit "Cause that's wrong!"

Spoilers- mid 4th season then everything takes a left turn off the charted path

Rating- May get to R eventually

She was too late. It might have been the three dogs she had to kill. It was probably the four human lackeys she had to dispatch. That would have bothered her several days ago. Not now. She knew she should have moved faster but she was still trying to readjust to all the memories so fresh in her head. She could feel them leaving the other side of the cemetery, too far for her to get there, not to mention the other limitations. She saw the body from forty feet away, on her knees, held up by the spear through her chest. When she finally got to her, she was still barely breathing. She knelt beside her, wrapping her arms around her friend. Her tears flowed as fast as the rain did down her face. A brief whispered goodbye between them, then all was silence. She picked up the limp body and began walking to the edge of the cemetery where she knew she would find them.

Giles was soaked to the core in the first five minutes they were outside. He was not sure what he would be able to do for Willow or Buffy but he knew he had to try. He was somewhat glad that Sasha had come with him, since he knew that she could handle just about any fighting that came up. He could also now see why she had been described as ghost-like. She made not a sound and moved so fluidly she seemed to flow. They got to the cemetery Xander had indicated, and were following the trail of bodies when the shapes came out of the mist. Such a small figure carrying another. Giles and Sasha both kinda froze in place, not knowing what to do.

As Buffy walked past the pair carrying Willow's limp body, she looked up at the tall, dark haired one.

"Not a word, Sasha. Not one FUCKING word." Her voice as cold and flat as any they had ever heard.

She walked off into the rain.

To Be Continued

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	13. For Good or Bad Ch 13

**For Good or Bad, The Memories Remain. **

**Chapter 13**

Disclaimer- I don't still own Buffy and crew, I just use them in my writing, just for fun, never for profit "Cause that's wrong!"

Spoilers- mid 4th season then everything takes a left turn off the charted path

Rating- May get to R eventually

'Why must it always end in blood and death? It seems that I have been continuously hounded by death and destruction for as long as I can remember. Worse, I'm a carrier, bringing grief and sorrow to all the lives I've touched. If I hadn't tried to escape that, I could have helped Faith. Faith, shit. I stood there and condemned Faith for a death or two. If it didn't hurt so much, I would fall over laughing at the hypocrisy of that little scene. I've killed more people than second hand smoke, a veritable slaughtering machine. Not a Slayer, Proper Slayers kill the monsters, and protect the humans. That's the way it's supposed to be. Somehow that slipped by the wayside sometimes, after a while, it didn't seem to matter. I could justify almost anything; they were helping the vamp, they weren't willing to help me kill the vamps, they were the vamps blood supply. Where did the justification end and the cold-heartedness begin? I so wanted to come here and start over, fight the good fight, don't give in to the futility. I know what's coming next. I hope I can be strong for them; I can only be strong for myself for so long. There are enough bodies around to prove that.'

"Maybe I'll try the truth, what a novel approach!"

She looks over at Willow's body lying there in the cave, the peaceful slack faced look of the dead barely visible through the simple veil placed over her chalky face.

"Willow, it wasn't supposed to go down like this. We should have never done the spell. You would have stayed blissfully unaware of my monstrous past. Those were things I wanted no one to know, even myself. I guess it's futile to try and escape who you are"

'She saw the worst part of me, and I think it overwhelmed her. At least she was her in the end. I still can't believe that as you knelt there, propped up by a spear through the chest, that you still asked ME to forgive YOU! Your death was my fault, just as surely as if I had held the spear and sunk it home through your heart myself. '

She sat in the cave, sharpening and oiling the dark steel of her short sword, momentarily getting lost into the grain of the steel, wishing for blissful forgetfulness, knowing what must be done next, and a bit afraid of what was to come.

The rain came down in sheets, with no sign of letting up. A grey morning seemed oh so appropriate.

To Be Continued

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	14. For Good or Bad Ch 14

**For Good or Bad, The Memories Remain. **

**Chapter 14**

Disclaimer- I don't still own Buffy and crew, I just use them in my writing, just for fun, never for profit "Cause that's wrong!"

Spoilers- mid 4th season then everything takes a left turn off the charted path

Rating- May get to R eventually

She could smell wood smoke. It hurt to breath. She wasn't sure how she got here. She wasn't sure of much. She knew she had been in combat, in the rain. She remembered that much, but she wasn't sure if it was yesterday or 2 years ago. All the memories were too sharp. They hurt. Her chest seemed to ache from it, or was it something else? She tried opening her eyes, to sort this puzzle out. It was dark. She could see some flickering fire light and a figure by a fire, staring into the flame, a shortsword lying forgotten in her hands.

"Buffy? How?"

"You already know the answer to that, and I'm sorry. It wasn't supposed to be like this. You were to find out a little at a time, and be taught when you eventually became. But it didn't work out that way. On the plus side, you already know the rules and know what you need to do. You have an extra advantage by having all my memories and knowledge. You won't need to be taught styles of combat, techniques, or reasons. But you also know the downfall of the lifestyle. I would have wished to never have inflicted so much pain on you. You were never to know the things I did. I am beyond ashamed of many of the things I've done in my life. I will try and make sure you get trained in body and mind to endure what you have received. You should rest now, your body will take time to readjust to its new capabilities. Stay here, I have to go tell Giles about me. It's up to you whether you want me to reveal your new status. I will not tell him if you don't want me too. I'm real sorry I got you into this, He was after me, and justifiably so. You rest, I'll be back in a little bit."

"Buffy, it's not your fault."

"Sure it is, just like it will be my burden if it becomes necessary to kill Giles to protect our secret."

She slowly walks from the cave, deep in contemplation. She was about to openly reveal her true self to someone, something she hadn't done in a long time. She was apprehensive to say the least. The few times she let someone in always ended badly, usually with bloodshed.

To Be Continued

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	15. For Good or Bad Ch 15

**For Good or Bad, The Memories Remain. **

**Chapter 15**

Disclaimer- I don't still own Buffy and crew, I just use them in my writing, just for fun, never for profit "Cause that's wrong!"

Spoilers- mid 4th season then everything takes a left turn off the charted path

Rating- May get to R eventually

She needed to decide. She needed to choose. Who did she think she was kidding, she knew she had to go to Giles......and Sasha. Why was Sasha here, why now? Sasha should have at least kept Giles from doing anything stupid right away. The past few days were taking its toll on the tiny blond. She couldn't think straight. A war was raging in her mind. The part of her that gave in, took the easy road kept telling her to vanish, it would take quite a while for them to find her. But for that to be successful, she would have to kill Willow because she knew all Buffy's tricks, hiding places and secrets. She couldn't be that person again. She couldn't let herself get that low ever again. It didn't take that much. Just a little here and there, and before you knew it, you had to be oh so careful because Wolfram and Hart would try to foreclose on your soul. It never quite got that bad but she saw how it could. It was all so simple when she was a little girl; find evil, slay evil. That was many years ago.

She would talk to Giles, gather her resources then get Willow. Willow was the important one now. She had arrived at his door. "It's time."

They had walked back from the park in silence. Giles was deeply shaken to the core of his being. It took a while for some of the last 24 hours to catch up and iron themselves out. He sat on the couch sipping whiskey, staring at the bookshelf while Sasha seemed to be working hard at mostly nothing. Finally she pulled several tomes off the shelf. He saw that they were his own working journals on the Immortal Slayer legends.

"What are you doing with those?"

"I need to make sure you won't have enough to track me after I leave. Besides you have ultimate proof that I exist. I'm right here, so you won't need these anymore."

"When are you leaving?"

"Soon, probably in the morning"

"Are you going to tell me about how you know Buffy first?" Bingo! He finally got a reaction. "You obviously know her. You launched out of here like a bloody rocket two seconds after you saw her picture! Not to mention the Comment from Buffy! What aren't you telling me Sasha!"

"I can't tell you." Barely above a whisper. "I can't tell you"

"You damn well better tell me! I just witnessed the death of two of my dearest friends! Willow in body and Buffy in mind! You WILL tell me what's going ON!"

"Buffy will tell you, I'm sure she'll come soon and tell you. That will have to do, Rupert. I can't tell you! "Tears spring to her eyes as she stares intently at her hands, a look of despair on her face.

"Why! Why can't you tell me?" Giles screams at her, making her jump.

She whispers something. Giles can't hear it.

"What was that?! I can't hear you!"

The faintest squeak "she'll kill me"

"What?"

"SHE'LL Kill ME! Alright, if I talk, she will kill me. You heard her. You haven't seen her like I have! She will see it as defiance or betrayal or just another reason, as if I hadn't given her a few already! She....Will....Kill....Me. I cannot tell you. That will be up to her. I'm sorry."

She turned away from him. He wasn't sure if the trembling was fear, tears or rage, but he was sure she was on the emotional edge.

"You're a 250 year old Immortal Slayer and you're scared of Buffy? What in the hell is going on?"

She looked over at the front door. "She will tell you" as she turned and left for the kitchen.

To Be Continued

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	16. For Good or Bad Ch 16

**For Good or Bad, The Memories Remain. **

**Chapter 16**

Disclaimer- I don't still own Buffy and crew, I just use them in my writing, just for fun, never for profit "Because that'd be wrong!"

Spoilers- mid 4th season then everything takes a left turn off the charted path

Rating- May get to R eventually

She walked up to the door, wondering when she had swallowed the colony of butterflies that were furiously fluttering in her gut. She opened the door and walked right in. Giles was in the living room, looking at the door. Sasha was in the kitchen.

"Giles, I need to use your shower, I'm still cover in gunk." She said lightly.

"Buffy, we need to talk."

"I know, but first I shower. That will give you enough time to get the kettle on for some tea, Earl Grey preferably. Also, make sure Sasha is staying for this. I don't want to have to repeat myself" She walked slowly up the stairs.

Giles could hear the water running. He was at a loss for words for a moment. Then he began to pick up the clutter in the living room, including putting his tomes on the ghost in a different spot. He then called the hospital for an update on Tara. Tara. How was he going to break it to her that Willow was dead? From the look of her body when Buffy carried it by, she had gone down swinging. By the time he was off the phone, Sasha had brought the tea set in and had taken a seat in the corner of the living room closest the door. "God, she looks fragile today. Just yesterday she looked the epitome of a Slayer; tall, dark, powerful. Today it looks like she is ready to shatter into tiny pieces. It can't be the bloodshed. It has to be Buffy, but that makes no sense.' His reverie was broken by Buffy's appearance in the room. He didn't hear her enter, he just felt a strong presence. She was dressed simply; plain black cloth baggy pants like he had seen rock climbers wear, that whole freedom of movement thing he was sure. Above that, a plain red silk tank top, cut to flatter her slim figure, with a black short sleeved button up shirt loosely draped over her frame. He thought he saw a handle or hilt of something under the shirt once or twice as she passed by him to get a cup of tea. She moved back to the fireplace and began to sip her tea.

"Giles, how is Tara?"

""she is in recovery now. They had to operate to reassemble her arm, the bones were shattered. She now has two pins in them running the length of each bone. She will set off metal detectors the rest of her life I'm sure but the hand should still be functional."

"That's good. I was worried. Giles, sit down. This will take a while and please don't interrupt, this will be hard enough. "She stood there for a moment staring into her tea cup, gathering her courage. She could feel the imperfections in the rim, the heat transferred through the fine porcelain. Now that the moment had come, she wasn't sure she could do it. It had gone wrong so many times right after this point, could she risk that again? The silence stretched in the room til the tension was thick as liquid.

"Buffy? Are you all right?"

"Yeah Giles, it's just that this is the hard part; where to begin?"She spoke haltingly. She seemed to Giles to gather herself up into almost a fight or flight response. He wondered if she was going to go through with whatever she had to tell him.

She looked up at him, straight in the eyes, a firm conviction in the depths of her tortured eyes.

"My real true name is Genvieve Elisabetha Dwyer, I was born in the year 1276 in the little village of Tiszta-Berc at the base of the Carpathian Mountains. I have been alive for over 700 years. I am Immortal. I grew up a blacksmith's daughter. When I was 10, my village was overrun by creatures of the night, demons, werewolves, vampires ect. I and a few other children survived and made it to the next town. There I scrapped and scraped to get by. I have been dodging demons and vamps for as long as I can remember. It was hard on the streets. No one would take us in, which left us more vulnerable to be prayed upon by any and every one who could. Many horrible things happened; most of the horrible things you could imagine being done to a ten year old girl were done. When I was twelve, a remarkable thing happened one evening when I was fighting off an attacker when I became dizzy. He tried to take advantage of it and pressed his 'intentions'. I promptly threw him through a stable wall. I had become the Slayer. Bad thing was, I didn't know for quite a while what was going on. When my first watcher found me and explained what was going on, I took to the whole concept like a horse to grain. I couldn't get enough. For several years I traveled with my watcher through several of the towns and cities in the Carpathian Valley. I carved a blazing path through the local vampire population and had become quite a hindrance to their operations. All this success caught up with me one night. I was cornered by a good fifteen to twenty in a tower. I wasn't about to let them have me, especially since they had proclaimed that they would turn me to prove their dominance. I figured I would refuse them that victory. I leapt from the tower to my death. "She paused to refill her tea cup, having drained it. She looked as if this telling of her tale was as painful as any torture could be. She didn't even look at Giles while she was telling it. She was staring over his head at the bookcase behind him. There was deep pain in her eyes as she continued. "The night they drove me to jump, they were unable to find my watcher, thank goodness. He escaped to tell the tale of my death. The next morning I awoke in the hog pen I had landed in. I had no idea how I had lived. But I knew I had a screaming headache. As I sat up, a man at the rail spoke to me 'you might not want to do that' but it was too late. I was violently ill. He took me in. He began explaining about what had happened. I was now Immortal. I would never age, disease wouldn't kill me, and violence would not kill me, even though it still hurts. The only thing that would end my life would be beheading. He went on to explain that there were other Immortals, and that there was an eternal struggle among the Immortals. You see, when one of us is killed, all his accumulated knowledge and power is released. If it's another Immortal they will receive it and grow stronger and more knowledgeable until in the end there is only one, with all the knowledge and power of all the Immortals. Such power makes you able to heal quicker, move a little faster, have sharper senses. We are equipped with an internal sense for detecting other Immortals so we may prepare for combat if the other has come seeking our heads. There are rules for such combat as well; all combats will be one-on-one, no outside interference and never on holy ground. There are Immortals who are in a constant search for others to kill to increase their power. There are others who want nothing to do with this 'Game'. I have a few natural advantages. I never lost my Slayer strength, reflexes, ect. This made me quite a formidable opponent right out of the gate. But I wasn't interested in the 'Game'. I had Slayer work to be done. The Immortal that found me told me he had been many things and I had to learn my battle skills better so I could survive the occasional Immortal challenge as well as increasing my lethality for Slayerness. I spent the next twenty years with him trying to wring every drop of knowledge about armed and unarmed combat out of him. He was a good teacher. His knowledge was exhaustive in all things of warfare. He taught me the way of the short sword. He said it was the perfect killing tool , especially for my size. I asked him where he had learned it, he told me he was once in the Roman Legion, and later a Gladiator in Rome. Since then he had wandered the northern reaches, learning long sword and axe. He was about Oz's size but built like a fireplug, all muscle. His grip was brutal. But he also taught me that Immortality was also a key to knowledge. He taught me to speak and write Latin and Greek, and encouraged me to learn as many languages as I could since I would want the ability to blend in wherever I traveled. He taught me the signs to look for to track down other Immortals, how to take the long view on money, land, possessions. I took all his lesions to heart. Many of the later things I survived were due to his lessons." Once again she paused for a few minutes. Giles sat and tried to get his brain to process everything he had learned. Some of it sounded a bit beyond what he could grasp, but he was adapting and changing, an ability quite necessary for survival in Sunnyhell. She was looking at her feet now, she seemed to not want to continue with this part. "My moral compass wasn't the most accurate or consistent. Lets just say there were things I did that were not in the best interests of the side of goodness. I also saw so much violence and blood shed over the years. Since I still concentrated on the Slayer thing, and most of those times are spent in cemeteries, I didn't get challenged by other Immortals as much as many others. Eventually it all got to be too much which is a story for another time. I contacted an Immortal Witch named Cassandra. "Giles jumped to his feet.

"Cassandra! The Spirit of the Glenn! She's real?"

"Yes she is. I told her of my weariness and described what I wanted to do; return to just a Slayer and forget the weight of my years. This had several inherent dangers. One of the dangers was I would not remember any of the enemies I had made over the years who would want to get their revenge. Another was I wouldn't remember my Immortality and would run the risk of being discovered by accident. Cassandra devised a cloaking spell to dampen my Immortal signature so I wouldn't be detectable by them. The down side was it worked both ways; I couldn't detect them if I wanted either. I did the research and laid it all out in advance of the spell being cast. There were things I set out to give me a decent start. Watcher records were doctored to make it seem as if I had just been called. Faith is the true Slayer of this time, a problem for another day. You were selected specifically as my Watcher because of both your and your father's obsession with the mythical Immortal Slayers, as a hedge against this very day. Sunnyhell was the site where if a few extra weird things went on, it would blend into all the other crazy shit going on here, as well as benefiting from and unkillable Slayer. I didn't know how long the spell would last. Cassandra is supposed to return or track me down in 25 years to check on the return of my memories. Willow's spell overrode it. So here we are.........hand me that whiskey, I need a drink!" She said as she collapsed into a chair. "I haven't revealed as much to someone in over four hundred years. Now you know the truth. Hopefully you realize that you must keep this secret. I cannot and will not allow this to be revealed, for both our safety as well as yours. "

When she collapsed in the chair, he was struck by how fragile she still looked. She was just a little girl, and has had to endure all the world could throw at a slayer for hundreds of years. How he wished his father was alive to sit here with her. He was right all these years. It made him sad. The council retired him because of his beliefs or as the council put it 'obsession with mythological Slayers, there are no Immortal Slayers', well here he was sitting with two of the most mythological Slayers. He stood up, walked over where Buffy was sitting with the bottle of whiskey, poured some in his tea cup. He raised it high in the air.

"Father, you were right" He said to the room, before downing the cup like a shot. He hung his head for a moment before looking over at Buffy. "Buffy, what's next?"

To Be Continued

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	17. For Good or Bad Ch 17

**For Good or Bad, The Memories Remain. **

**Chapter 17**

Disclaimer- I don't still own Buffy and crew, I just use them in my writing, just for fun, never for profit "Because that'd be wrong!"

Spoilers- mid 4th season then everything takes a left turn off the charted path

Rating- May get to R eventually

"Now, I make a few phone calls and try and get some of the loose ends fluttering around here tied down before they come completely unglued." She leans back into the chair she had slumped into.

"Sasha, I need you to do me a favor" She stretches a hand above the chair with a note in it for Sasha to take.

Sasha hadn't moved since Buffy began her speech. She had forgotten how engaging she found her. The tone in her voice brought back so many memories, things she hadn't thought about in so many years. She remembered waking up on that little rock pinnacle the morning after the fight, a throbbing in her chest. She remembered the little halting speech she gave about how she was Immortal. She had cried then, thinking of a long horrible life like the one she thought she had finally escaped from. She couldn't imagine another ten years living like she had, much less the concept of Immortality. Life had been hell, and she had purposely let her guard down in the fight hoping to end the torment. She thought she had finally bought piece with the last currency she could spend, her life. Not that she felt she owned herself. Her body was no longer hers; her Watcher kept reminding her about her debit to the Council and how she was such a tool to be aimed at their enemies. Her body had been already taken by her Watcher, to get her used to any and all possible evil methods. An exercise in escape he had called it, to try and keep pure in focus regardless of what was going on or being done around her. Later she realized it was just an excuse for releasing his pent up rages of lust and anger. She still bore some of the scars from his lessons, both physically and mentally. She remembers coming to and begging Elisabetha to kill her, give her peace. Elisabetha wouldn't hear of it. She didn't understand then, but in later years she thought she did. She figured it was a desire to allow her the chance to see what life was really like before she threw it away. Later she figured it was plain selfish meanness, because she had learned to read the signs that Elisabetha wanted to die, and was going to refuse her getting something she herself wasn't allowed due to a flaw in character. Over the years, she had been able to decipher quite a bit about "Buffy", but it always seemed when she thought she knew her, a new twist or wrinkle would surface to throw her for a loop. She wasn't sure why, but the little blonde would always end up angry around her. Maybe it was too much Slayer vibes, maybe it was the Immortal radar buzzing in her head, but after she had quit formally teaching her, Elisabetha would try to be away more and more. It was around this time Elisabetha's control started to slip. She had always impressed her with the ability to remain calm and focused during battle. Now she started to seem to lose control, sink into the chaos of battle a little too far a little too quickly. She remembered the look on her face when she ended up accidentally killing two villagers in one vamp nest they were dismantling. She shrugged it off as if it were nothing. It was then she knew she had to get away from Elisabetha, lest it cost her humanity. The things she heard about after she left were too horrible to contemplate, so she never bothered to even try and confirm. She did her best to move on. She would concentrate on the Slaying, and exercise her particular demons on bad Watchers to try and ease the burden on the poor mortal Slayers. She was still in this reflectance when she felt someone tap her on the shoulder. She looked up, right into the eyes of her one time friend, mentor, and teacher. Her eyes captivated her for a second; the raw anguish in them struck her like a physical blow.

"I said, could you take care of the things on this list, I have to take care of Willow."

"Sure Elisabetha, I'll take care of it."

To Be Continued

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	18. For Good or Bad Ch 18

**For Good or Bad, The Memories Remain. **

**Chapter 18**

Disclaimer- I don't still own Buffy and crew, I just use them in my writing, just for fun, never for profit "Because that'd be wrong!"

Spoilers- mid 4th season then everything takes a left turn off the charted path

Rating- May get to R eventually

She woke to the sound of her own stomach grumbling. The dirt of the cave was soft under her feet, the direct contact with the earth was soothing to her disoriented soul.

"Gods will you just shut UP!!" she screamed aloud to the voices in her head. It was all a sea of raw naked emotion, jumbled in with a small quiet corner that was her original self. Her body felt like it had been lovingly caressed with a cheese grater. She knew she needed to try and put everything in some semblance of order in her mind, otherwise she would drown. She had to take stock of what was here, what was usable and what was excess. But first she must get food....and a shower. She was still covered to some extent with blood and mud. She walked from the cave out into the sunlight. It felt warm on her face. She hoped Sunnyhell residents were as blind as normal, otherwise she would be hospitalized or arrested. It was quite a long walk back to the dormitory, especially without her shoes, which were somewhere in the cemetery from last night if she recalls correctly. The whole way she keeps repeating to herself 'I'm Willow Rosenberg, I'm Willow Rosenberg, I'm Willow Rosenberg" in a more than half hearted attempt to keep herself from becoming lost in the morass of Buffy memories and emotions. She knew she would feel better after she got all the slime and gore off her body. She knew she had to collect her thoughts. She finally made it to her room. She started stripping the blood and mud encrusted rags that were once her clothes from her battered and bruised body. She then did something she rarely did, she stood in front of the full length mirror and looked at herself, trying to take an honest appraisal of her damage, her physical condition, and such. With all her newly acquired knowledge giving her a different perspective, she realized that she had a nice figure, and maybe could show it off some. Her fingers traced the puckered skin where she had been stabbed. She was going to live forever. Never in her wildest dreams did she think of that all. All these years on the Hellmouth, all the friends dieing around her, she always wondered if she would make 12, then 16, then 20 seemed old. Now she was going to outlive all of them. Except Buffy. Just thinking of the little blonde viper brought a whole storm of emotions to the surface. She knew why Buffy thinks she did the things she did. Not all of it makes sense. The burdens of 700 years of watching your friends die, facing the worst that hell could throw at her. It still doesn't excuse some of the other things. She stepped into the shower, the hot water loosening muscles that had been all in knots. She started to scrub away the grim and gore. After 20 minutes, she still feld 'dirty' and kept going, the loofa long since having rubbed the skin raw. She wasn't sure when she had slumped to the bottom of the shower, the water cascading over her raw and bleeding skin. Evidently long enough for it to heal back. It was morning when she went to the dorm; it was evening when she managed to pull herself up from the floor of the shower. She went to get dressed and stopped at the mirror, her reflection drawing her attention. She ran her hands through her auburn hair. "Wasn't it brighter" she asks no one in particular. None of her clothes fit her mood. "I guess it's time to go shopping, then I'll go to Giles'."

To Be Continued

All Reviews Welcome


	19. For Good or Bad Ch 19

**For Good or Bad, The Memories Remain. **

**Chapter 19**

Disclaimer- I don't still own Buffy and crew, I just use them in my writing, just for fun, never for profit "Because that'd be wrong!"

Spoilers- mid 4th season then everything takes a left turn off the charted path

Rating- May get to R eventually

She left the dorm room and began walking down the hall when she saw Xander helping Tara to her room.

"Hey Tara what happened?"

Tara looked up and was stunned by what she saw. It was Willow, and not Willow at the same time. Her aura had shifted dramatically from the norm it had once been. Where as it used to reflect a calm peacefulness, it now was jammed, overloaded with chaos and conflict. It struck the young witch like a physical blow which in her weakened and highly drugged state was quite evident. This was felt by Xander

"It's ok Tara, it's just Willow. I know all that morphine or opium or whatever they gave you is kinda wierding you out. Let's get you to bed."

"No! Stay back! Can't you see it Xander? It has death all over it!" she screamed as she tried to claw her way free and run.

"Tara, calm down! It's just Willow!" as he turns his head to look down the hall "Isn't it?"

Willow took a step forward, a shocked look on her face, "Guys, it's me!"

"NOOOOOO!" Tara screamed as she broke free, stumbling and swerving down the hallway.

Xander chased after her.

Willow slumped to the floor, her back against the wall. Her head hung toward her

knees.

"Goddess, what have I become?"

To Be Continued

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	20. For Good or Bad Ch 20

For those of you who wanted a little more Sasha

**For Good or Bad, The Memories Remain. **

**Chapter 20**

Disclaimer- I don't still own Buffy and crew, I just use them in my writing, just for fun, never for profit "Because that'd be wrong!"

Spoilers- mid 4th season then everything takes a left turn off the charted path

Rating- May get to R eventually

Buffy wandered over and hijacked Giles' phone

"Hey, Mom. You need to call Joe up in Seacouver and tell him I got my memory

back. Yes I know about Joe, yes I know about the watchers. He needs to brief

you on the whole situation. You better brief Giles. While you're at it, find out

who's Sasha's watcher is, we may as well have a party."

Buffy hung up the phone to meet the steady glare of Giles.

"What? Hang on, one more call."

"Yes, This is Elizabeth Tessin, I need you to prep #3 for me. I'll be sending

someone down to pick it up. I'll also need to have some other stuff delivered, she

will bring a list."

Giles walked away from her, shaking his head.

"I hope Joyce CAN explain."

Later that day.......

She was muttering to herself as she walked up to the building in the outskirts of L.A..

"I'm 250 years old, controlled my destiny for eons, mention of my name causes Watchers to wet themselves, and 10 minutes around Elisabetha, and I'm errand girl again! Why do I let her? I should just take her head, after all the downright evil shit she's done! But no! I got to fall for the I've changed I'm not like that now, routine! Why do I let her get under my skin like this? Next she will be having me do her laundry! I'm not the 14 year old girl she rescued any more! I don't even know what I'm getting here"

She entered what looked to be your generic run down industrial building and was startled to find a very plush high class office. An impeccably dressed receptionist walked up to her.

"Good afternoon Miss, how can I help you?"

"Yes, I'm here to pick up an item for Miss Tessin."

"Oh yes! It should be ready, do you wish to go directly or would you care to have tea or coffee and some refreshments?" She said leading her into a stately lounge area accented by masterful antiques. Another person was drawing water form the stately Russian brass samovar on the mahogany side board.

"Excuse me Miss but what exactly is this place?"

"We are a long term storage company specializing in security, confidentiality, and service. We have been here for 138 years, and the older branches of our company are spread through the east coast and in Europe."

"Funny, I've traveled a lot and have never heard of your company"

"That's because we never advertise, no signs, no published numbers. We feel that with the services we can provide to the caliber of clients, word of mouth has worked for well over 400 years."

"Well, unfortunately I need to be going, if you could just lead me to the items."

"Not a problem ma'am, right this way" She leads Sasha out a door to the stairwell, up 3 flights to an alcove with a guard behind what appears to be bulletproof glass. "As you can see, we are quite secure here. Miss Tessin has an entire floor leased from us which makes things quite a bit simpler."

They are waved through by the guard. Upon entering the storage area, Sasha is stunned. Expecting to find basic warehouse accommodations, she instead finds an immaculate white walled area with several huge crates with numbers on them, hundreds of smaller boxes, an elaborate overhead hoist system, and in the middle sat what she was obviously sent to pick up. She looked at the blood red roadster with undisguised lust, her mind ticking off its I.D. effortlessly considering how much she had lusted after them when they came out. A 1967 Sunbeam Tiger II Convertible. It appeared to be in perfect condition. She was still gazing at it when she realized that the lady was speaking to her.

"It's a nice thing that Miss Tessin has two, so she can play with this one, what with all the performance upgrades and styling and electronics, but I truly love her green one. It was so fortuitous of her mother to buy two at the same time and how did she put it...ah yes, put one away for a rainy day. It still has the original window sticker and all the performance options, circa 1967 of course. Her family must have really loved cars, because she has quite the discriminating collection. The keys are in it, all the insurance paperwork is in the glove box, a full tank of gas, radar detector, scanner, mobile phone are all checked out and functioning. The smaller packages she requested are In the trunk. Is there anything else you need? "

"I can't think of a thing. Except, how do I get down to the street?"

"After you sign the paperwork with the proper authenticator code, drive to the door over there" indicates the far end of the room. "There the doors will open to a freight elevator. We will lower you to street level. From there follow the signs out. You will end up exiting several blocks from here, another security precaution."

She couldn't wait to get into the car, she rapidly signed the paperwork, slid behind the wheel, and breathed life to the small vicious machine. The sound from the tweaked and tuned engine went straight to her soul. She had loved driving these types of cars back in the 60s. It felt like a tangible slice of freedom.

"I wonder how I can get this from her. Elisabetha doesn't really need this car, she has others. I think it could take me hours to get back. I wonder" she reaches below the dash and quickly finds what she is looking for, a shortsword mounted just out of sight, but not out of reach. She began ticking off in her head the other places she needed to go, and added a few places for herself, knowing that the longer she stayed away, the more Elisabetha could get ironed out. She remembered that chaos not of her making made Elisabetha dangerous and she didn't want to end up fighting her, not at least without a great deal of preparation.

To Be Continued

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	21. For Good or Bad Ch 21

**For Good or Bad, The Memories Remain. **

**Chapter 21**

Disclaimer- I don't still own Buffy and crew, I just use them in my writing, just for fun, never for profit "Because that'd be wrong!"

Spoilers- mid 4th season then everything takes a left turn off the charted path

Rating- May get to R eventually

She was walking through the cemetery in the sunshine. Her blonde hair glowed in the golden rays. She was stuck in deep reflection, trying to ignore the many people who were visiting the graves of loved ones, a common Sunday outing here in Sunnyhell. She looked sadly at the ones that were visiting empty grave sites, knowing she couldn't tell them that they had to be killed again, they dust fertilizing the lawn. Evidently vamp dust is good fertilizer too, the lawn a rich vibrant green the envy of most golf courses. She had known that she had to send Sasha away before the situation got out of hand and the young girl try and get retribution from her for past crimes. She knew Sasha probably wouldn't listen to her, about how she had changed, about how she wasn't that person any more. Besides, Sasha had always been a sucker for a red convertible. She thought about what to do next, does she continue here? The town needs a Slayer, and she didn't think Sasha was willing to take over here. She had to stay. If she ran out, then it would just prove she was worthless and incapable of change, unworthy of forgiveness. Besides, what else was she going to do, sell shoes at a Pic-Way? She had committed herself here and, damn it she was going to start her redemption here. She had some credibility built up here so maybe it would allow her to make it over these rough spots. She was ripped from her introspection by the distinctive tingle of her "Immortal radar". She scanned quickly, finding him standing by a stone in the distance, watching her. Knowing she was on holy ground, and in a decently crowded public place, she walked over to speak with the individual.

"Hello Elisabetha, you look quite well and rested. You must be about ready for another killing spree. "The tall, dark haired man spoke with only a hint of a European accent.

"Hello Radimer. That was a long time ago, I was different then, everything was different then. I truly regret the choices of my youth. Is there any way we can just let this go, move on. It was so long ago. We don't have to do this."

"You won't charm your way out of this. There is a blood debt to be paid, and you , everyone you love and everything you ever cared about will suffer. And then, it still won't be enough. Your evil must be cleansed by your suffering and your blood. My people will be avenged."

To be continued

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	22. For Good or Bad Ch 22

**For Good or Bad, The Memories Remain. **

**Chapter 22**

Disclaimer- I don't still own Buffy and crew, I just use them in my writing, just for fun, never for profit "Because that'd be wrong!"

Spoilers- mid 4th season then everything takes a left turn off the charted path

Rating- May get to R eventually

The whole world was different now. She used to get simple enjoyment out of seeing something new, learning something new. Life had a sense of wonder about it. Now, she felt old. And what was worse was it had just begun. She was a 20 year old with 700 years experience jammed into her. And she was Immortal. She would see everyone she loved grow old and feeble, dieing before her eyes. She also had so many horrible experiences added to her soul. She knew she didn't do them, but she could feel the malice in her as it was done, the remorse and disgust at her actions later, and the sheer glee of the kill. She had bathed in the blood of the wicked, and been an avenging angel, striking down the unworthy. She knew why Buffy had been driven to try and forget. She also knew Buffy would never forgive herself. She tried hard not to focus on Buffy's thoughts and feelings during the time she was here in Sunnyhell. It gave her a splitting headache trying to keep both perspectives straight. She had to concentrate on what to do next. She had a sneaking suspicion that her relationship with Tara was forever tainted now. She needed to begin building her body to be able too use the training she had 'inherited' for Buffy. She could get Giles to do it maybe.

She finished her shopping, and preceded to the check out, a half a dozen items in her hands and a new look on her trim frame. Then she felt it, the pounding presence in her mind of another Immortal.

To be Continued

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	23. For Good or Bad Ch 23

**For Good or Bad, The Memories Remain. **

**Chapter 23**

Disclaimer- I don't still own Buffy and crew, I just use them in my writing, just for fun, never for profit "Because that'd be wrong!"

Spoilers- mid 4th season then everything takes a left turn off the charted path

Rating- May get to R eventually

""Just a moment Mac, I better get that" The older gentleman behind the bar said as he shuffled over to the phone

Duncan continued to sip his beer. The afternoon was one of reflection and remembrance. They were drinking to a good friend of Joe's who was killed recently. He was a Watcher, a member of a group dedicated to documenting the lives and activities of Immortals, their struggles, their movements, activities and histories. Joe was responsible for most of the Watchers on the West Coast. He had been to a lot of funerals. It seems that most Immortals don't like people following them; poking their nose into private things, hence the reason the Watchers has tried to stay a secret organization. Duncan Macleod was one of the exceptions; he had discovered the Watchers and decided that it would be better to know who and what was tracking him rather than a strange face all the time. Joe didn't mind after a while. This way he got better insight to Duncan's history. Joe's friend disappeared while tracking a relatively old Immortal, reputed to be over four hundred years old. He had been found poured into a trash can, chopped into pieces no larger than a paperback book. Joe had taken his death pretty hard, he was one of the last from the class he had taught at the Watcher Academy. Students from his instructing year had shown extraordinary skill and knowledge; therefore they were given the harder and more dangerous assignments. Joe had told Duncan that there were now only three left out of the class. Thirty-eight other bright, brave and dedicated people had died, most in the line of duty. Duncan can understand the feeling that Joe was having; everyone you thought would be there whenever you called them next, or swung by to see them. They aren't there; you'll never see their smiling face again, except in your memories. He can remember far too many faces that he won't meet again in this life. He was broken out of his reverie by Joe's loud proclamations over the phone.

"What!!! She told you what? Look Joyce, I know you were set up wrong in this one. If I though there was a chance of her getting her memory back, I never would have authorized the mission. ......yes, I know what I told you, I'm sorry. You have to come in, you need to be fully briefed, and probably reassigned." Holds the phone away from his ear "I know but this one is too dangerous, I can't .......yes I know but............yes , I'll send you the files, but you are NOT to initiate any surveillance of the subject Period! Do you understand me? I know you can take care of yourself but I can't afford to loose you. I expect your report on the whole situation by the end of the week. You watch your ass! I'll see you soon." He stares at the receiver for a few moments before he hangs it up.

"Joe, is everything alright?"

"That was Joyce Summers, the one I told you that couldn't make the funeral. I set her up in a real shitty situation without her knowledge a few years back. Well it's come back to blow up in her face, and I'm afraid I may need the mourning clothes again real soon." He stares at the bar top and pours himself a fairly large tumbler of whiskey, swirls it as he stares at the bottom of the glass.

"Are you going to fill me in?"

"Yeah, I should. What do you know about vampires?"

"I know they do exist, and that they are pretty rare, but other than that , just a bunch of Bella Lagosi movies and such. Why"

"There are a lot more of them than you think. There's an entire section of the Watchers dedicated to the fight to keep the forces of evil at bay. One side doesn't know the other exists except at the highest levels. The Watcher Council that deals with these things is dedicated to research and assist a 'chosen one', a fighter dedicated to the task of fighting vampires, demons, and other evil. The chosen one receives several improvements to her physical abilities to enable her to be more effective in this fight."

"You said her? Is there only one? And it's a she?"

"Yes, there is one girl chosen to defend humanity from the forces of evil, the Slayer, and the power is passed from one girl to the next at the time of her death. The Watcher's Council tries to identify and train the girl in her endeavors. This has been going on from the dawn of time. "

"You said girl. How old are they?"

"Normally they are called between 11 and 15 years old."

"What! That's outrageous! Sending little girls out to fight demons, that's just murder!"

"We didn't build it that way, it's just the way the magic works and yeah, it is murder. The average Slayer has a life expectancy of 9 months to a year. No Slayer has ever lived past 25."

"That's horrible, but what does this have to do with you? You're on the Immortal side of the house."

"Well, about 900 A.D., a strange thing happened. A Vampire Slayer was mortally wounded in battle, seemed to die, but then she recovered. This was the first documented cross between the two special types of individuals, but not the last. About every two hundred to two hundred and fifty years since, a Slayer becomes an Immortal. There became a theory back in the early 20's that if we follow the cycle, and observe he Slayer, we could actually start our chronicle pre-Immortality and have deeper insight. Granted, we would have the Vampire Slayer Watcher Chronicle, but they focus on different aspects than we do." He paused, and drained half his glass. "I had just finished my final report on a particular sleazebag named Dalcros, when I was approached by a girl. She told me that she knew who I was, who I worked for, what I did, ect. She told me that she wanted to make a deal. She wanted to vanish, disappear, and break clean of her past. She wanted to redeem herself to society. She had two minor problems. One was she had done quite a few things that made a large number of enemies. Two was her past clouded her mind so much that she felt she was ineffective to return to Slaying. She had spoken to Cassandra about a method to blank her mind of all of her history, including her Immortality. She would be the equivalent of a normal fourteen year old girl called to Slayerdom. A second spell would nullify her on the Immortal radar. You could stand next to her and never feel a thing, but it worked both ways, she would never feel you. I agreed to help her on one condition, she would be provided a Watcher for both her cover and to document her to see if her evil and violent nature resurfaced proving predisposition or if she was able to redeem herself she would prove to herself she could. She truly felt she could do good, and wanted to try without the baggage to stop her. I hooked Joyce up with her, as a 'adopted mother' so she could be around her to observe and such. But I lied to Joyce, I had to since I needed Joyce to be completely objective and un colored by what she heard. I told her that she was a suspected Pre-Immortal and she needed to document everything. The only two who knew were Cassandra, whom I never met, and myself. I cleaned up the cross references form her file to the ID of the new girl, went to the appointed cabin Cassandra left the message about, found the girl asleep. When she woke up, she called me 'Uncle Joe' and talked about how much fun she had up here in the woods this weekend. Cassandra had manipulated the memories so all was well. For six years. Until now. Joyce just call to tell me that her charge confronted her and informed her to call me to get briefed. I have no idea this girl's state of mind. I have to go brief Joyce, I owe it to her to do it face to face. I have to get the info straight from her on how the girl is acting now as well. A very lethal girl. "

"Who is this walking nightmare? Do I know them Joe?

"You can't go with me Mac, that would be using me for targeting and I can't let you do that until after I know if she has truly repented. "

"Just tell me a name Joe."

"You would probably recognize her style. She patterned herself off of another Immortal. She would leave a Tarot card in the middle of her handy work. She would....."

"No! You can't be telling me you have been keeping THAT one in hiding. She was one of the most vicious little creatures to come across the pond"

"Yup, the 'Angel of Death' herself"

"What was her name?"

"Genny Dwyer is what she told me. But I have been going back through the Slayer records, and it appears she is seven hundred and some change. She started out as one of the most successful of the earlier Slayers, Elisabetha Dwyer. Usually referred to in the Watcher diaries as Genvieve, later as Genvieve the Invincible."

"How does someone like that go so wrong?"

"Well Mac, you've seen what maybe four or five demons in your four hundred years right?"

"Give or take, so?"

"As a fourteen year old girl, she would fight between two and ten of then a night, just to stay alive. After a while, that level of exposure to death and chaos tends to mess with you."

"So what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to go down there, and brief Joyce and try to talk to Genny, see how she is doing and find out where to go from there. You are staying behind. The last thing she needs to see is another Immortal on my coattails, looking like a hit squad. Besides you need to stay here incase Adam gets back anytime soon. When he does, tell him to call me. "

"How soon are you leaving?" the concerned tone in his voice quite evident.

"As soon as I can get to the airport."

"Be careful Joe."

"See you in a week or two." He said as he walked out of the club.

To Be Continued

All Reviews Welcome


	24. For Good or Bad Ch 24

**For Good or Bad, The Memories Remain. **

**Chapter 24**

Disclaimer- I don't still own Buffy and crew, I just use them in my writing, just for fun, never for profit "Because that'd be wrong!"

Spoilers- mid 4th season then everything takes a left turn off the charted path

Rating- May get to R eventually

"Tara, she's just going through some tough adjustment. You guys will be fine, Willow will be fine. She's still Willow. "

"No Xander, she's not her anymore. It's like something's crawled inside her and died, poisoning her from the inside. She'll never come back to who she was."

"Don't you think that's a little harsh?"

"You didn't see her aura."

"Come on now Tara, you were looped out of your skull on pain drugs."

"I saw it. It was like ......it was like......she had a darkness wrapped around her

like a blanket. Her spark, her goodness was washed out, muted like watercolors

instead of the way Willow's was, bright , vibrant, full of the connection to the

goddess. Now I don't know about her. We may have to think about looking for a

way stop her."

"Stop her, stop her from WHAT? She hasn't DONE anything, she isn't going to

do anything! Don't you think YOU'RE the one over reacting?"

"Look, it's like this; if you have white paint, pure white paint, and you ad a touch

of black paint, you now have grey, and no matter how much white paint you add,

it will always be grey. It will never be white again." She sat down on the bed and

began to shake.

"Tara, I care about you but this is Willow we are talking about. She would never

do anything to hurt you. She loves you. I can't believe you would throw her away like

that. I thought you were better than that. You're condemning Will for nothing,

NOTHING! I'm going to go find her . I know she's hurt, I saw it in her eyes in the

hallway, she's probably alone and feeling like shit, and maybe a little scared. You see

, she just got a big load of crap dumped in her head and her girlfriend, you know, the

one who's supposed to love you and support you, screamed that she was the devil

and ran away. I need to go help my friend." He turns and walks out. Tara sits on the

bed in the dark weeping.

To Be Continued

All Reviews Welcome

To Be Continued

All Reviews Welcome


	25. For Good or Bad Ch 25

**For Good or Bad, The Memories Remain. **

**Chapter 25**

Disclaimer- I don't own Buffy, I just use her in my writing, just for fun, never for profit "Cause that's wrong!"

Spoilers- mid 4th season then everything takes a left turn off the charted path

Rating- May get to R eventually

He was headed down the street in his quest for Willow, having come up empty at her room and some of her other haunts when he spotted the dark haired girl walking away from him down the sidewalk. She was dressed in faded blue jeans, combat boots and an old faded green military field jacket with the sleeves pushed up. Maybe it was the way she was slowly walking down the sidewalk from the park, but more probably it was the blood dripping from her hands and forearms that drew his attention. She was walking in a slow, almost staggering manner. He approached her carefully from behind.

"Excuse me miss. Are you all right?"

She kept walking, apparently oblivious to him.

"Miss, are you ok? Can I help?" as he moved closer.

She kept moving, her unsteady shambling steps held no rhythm. As he moved closer he could tell that whatever the cause, the volume of blood was excessive. He got close enough to place his hand on her shoulder. As he did, she came to a stop, her head slumped.

"Here, let me help," as he tried to turn her to face him. He was looking down toward her hands, and could see as she turned that the front of her jeans were soaked, as well as her tee shirt. He looked up toward her face. He saw her eyes, deeply sunken grey-green. He has looked into those eyes so many times that he could draw the little imperfections in the irises, how her right one had a touch more green than the left on. The look in them now was alien to them. He had never seen such anguish and pain in them before .

"Willow, what happened? Oh god, how can I help? Are you hurt?"

She looked at Xander, and down at her hands several times. She began to speak in a far off voice.

"I did it; I've finally crossed over the line. I knew what it felt like to do it, from her, but now I know I can do it. It's all his fault, he challenged me. I tried to talk him out of it but no! HE had to. I didn't want to but he insisted. He thought He would win, I can tell, I feel him inside me. I had the last laugh. He didn't count on a bit of magic did he? Well, we wiped the smile off his face! I should get a bigger knife next time. The look in his eyes while I sawed through wasn't good. But I had to, those are the rules, what was I to do? I was right wasn't I Xander?"

Xander looked at her, slowly comprehending what she was talking about. He reached out and pulled her to him in a hug. She collapsed in his arms, exhausted. Xander picked her up, looking around.

"What the hell is going on?"

To Be Continued

All Reviews Welcome


	26. For Good or Bad Ch 26

**For Good or Bad, The Memories Remain. **

**Chapter 26**

Disclaimer- I don't still own Buffy and crew, I just use them in my writing, just for fun, never for profit "Cause that's wrong!"

Spoilers- mid 4th season then everything takes a left turn off the charted path

Rating- May get to R eventually

He didn't know where to take her, so he went to where they always went with their problems; Giles'. When he got there, before he could knock, the door swung open, Buffy in the doorway holding her short sword.

"What happened?"

"I found her walking down the sidewalk, dripping blood. She mumbled enough for me to know she seems to have killed someone." He looked into Buffy's eyes as he said this, noting no change. "Somehow you're not surprised. What has gotten into you, and what did you pass on to Willow? Tara won't have anything to do with her, screamed that the love of her life is dead, and Willow is evil. And now Willow, the kind caring one of us, hacked somebody's head off with a pocket knife. Once again, what is going on?

She looked up at Xander with those hazel eyes pooling with tears at the idea of going through the whole thing again

"I can't explain right now. You just have to trust me that she will be fine."

"Fine! I found my friend walking down the street covered in blood and you tell me that everything's FINE! Fine don't cut it!" He feels Willow stir. She opens her eyes and looks at Buffy.

"You should congratulate me Buffy, Now I'm a monster, just like you." As she holds up her blood covered arms.

At these words, all her anger and firm resolve vanished. Her eyes two hollow tunnels into her soul, she slumped to the ground on the porch, blindly staring at her feet.

Willow wrapped her arms around Xander heedless of the ruin she made of his shirt.

Xander stood dumbfounded, even more at a loss for what was going on. He slowly walked into Giles' living room.


	27. For Good or Bad Ch 27

**For Good or Bad, The Memories Remain. **

**Chapter 27**

Disclaimer- I don't own Buffy, I just use her in my writing, just for fun, never for profit "Cause that's wrong!"

Spoilers- mid 4th season then everything takes a left turn off the charted path

Rating- May get to R eventually

She stood on the grass under the elm tree, staring at the tombstone, the freshly disturbed dirt contrasting with the deep green of lush grass. She stared at the stone, trying to listen, hear it speak to her as it once did long ago, back when it spelled out a surrendering of emotion, a forfeiture of caring. She had buried herself twice here; once when she had given up on herself and once again in a desperate attempt to recover her humanity. She knew if she were to dig more than she did the other night, she would find the trunk with the full trappings of what she was trying to escape. She had sold herself out for a long time, overriding the need to protect, and giving in to the need to destroy. It didn't matter much, she still destroyed 'bad things' i.e. drug dealers, pimps, loan sharks, but it wasn't about the need to make the world better, it was about the joy of the fight. She never felt a need to try and involve herself in 'the game' but she never shirked a fight during this time. Looking back on it now, she could see it as seriously self destructive. She had wanted to die, but the Slayer in her couldn't surrender. She knew exactly how Faith felt, isn't that ironic. She had been in the same place and wanted the same thing, but her unremembering self couldn't see it. Faith wanted to die; she wanted to stop the pain and emptiness. It was a poison buried deep in the soul, and Faith didn't know how to deal with it. Hell, why should a 15 year old have the answer when a 700 year old uber-bitch didn't know. She knew he was right, she had poisoned everything and everyone she touched. Her selfishness drove Faith to the very thing she herself was trying to escape, she destroyed Willow's life so utterly , she may as well have outright killed her, it would be less damning, She gutted Tara emotionally, programmed Sasha into her own little Vengeance Slayer, killed countless innocents through either her actions or inaction. I have become a tool of death, death's Mistress, so I shall take his name like any good wife. She remembers the day she made that statement, felt its truth in the very marrow of her bones. She had tried to cheat him, get away from his cold embrace, return to the beginning, return to the pure path, return to Slaying the demons and vampires. She tried to put all the rest behind her, but it crept to the surface, like a body underwater rises as the rot and bloat pull it up. She remembered the day she surrendered to vengeance and anger, it was right after she got back from visiting Johneen. She had been placed in an asylum, living in a straight jacket. The task of remaining pure to the cause had taken its toll on her sanity. She came back to Sunnyhell, arranged a convenient Slayer death scene, buried her past, along with her faith, hope and humanity in the grave provided by her current Watcher, got onto her horse and went forth as a herald of death. When that phase had burned itself trough her soul, she tried to return to the proverbial , if not litteral, beginging. Her village in the Carpathian mountains didn't exist any more, but here in Sunnyhell was the where she abandoned the path. It was here she tried to return, and what a fucked up mess she made of that. She sits on the grave, leaning against the stone, her eyes closed in contemplation.

"Maybe it would be better if I just let one of them win. Maybe Sasha. The longer I go on, the less good I do, the more I destroy. Maybe its time to end it."

To Be Continued

All Reviews Welcome


	28. For Good or Bad Ch 28

**For Good or Bad, The Memories Remain. **

**Chapter 28**

Disclaimer- I don't own Buffy, I just use her in my writing, just for fun, never for profit "Cause that's wrong!"

Spoilers- mid 4th season then everything takes a left turn off the charted path

Rating- May get to R eventually

"How did you find me?"

"Please, all the time I've known you, you've lived in cemeteries. You might sleep somewhere else normally but you live in cemeteries."

"Why are you here?"

His voice with its unidentifiable accent borne from so many languages and so many years rolled out at her. "Elisabetha, I heard from a friend that you were back. I heard about your returning memory. How could I not come and talk again. I've missed our chats."

She looked up at him, sitting on a tombstone, that small figure, dark hair, and his boyish infective smirk. She realized she had missed their chats too.

"So what will be the subject of this afternoon's ramble oh learned one?" She smirked.

"Let's do something silly and cut to the chase, unfortunately I have only today to chat. I have to be in France tomorrow." he replied, tossing her a bottle of Guinness. "Something has you wrapped around the axle and I hate to see you this way. I'd rather see you in that little leather thing you wore when you tried to seduce that girl… what was her name?"

"That will be enough of that, Adam" she takes a long slow sip of Guinness, her eyes back on her lap, studying her hands quite intensely. In a quiet voice she whispers "I had to stake her a few months later."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know" he looked at her. She was still leaning against a tombstone, the sunlight filtering through the leaves of the ancient elm above making interesting patterns in her hair.

"It's ok Adam; I should be used to it somehow. Everything I love, I end up tainting, destroying or driving away."

"You're a Slayer, you are immersed in the worst the world can offer. I've known Immortals without that burden who can't handle the mere fact of their Immortality, much less deal with the level of stuff you have been living with. They give up and die before they reach 100. But you have an advantage, you have a purpose. Whenever you stray, things seem to go wrong, until you return to your calling. You can't teach a pig to dance, it's not in their nature and it annoys the pig. To each thing be true. So endth the speech" he takes a long draw of his Guinness.

"So that's it? I just 'keep right on Slayin" and I'll be happy? I don't think so! I'm tired of it, I want to quit!" Her hazel eyes flared with her anger.

"You can't quit. You can only quit by dying."

"I know. I mean it, Adam" She shifted to look into his eyes "I really have thought about it a lot. Would you help me?"

A look of sadness washed over his face. "Yes. If it's what you truly want. But only because I wouldn't want you to die alone, ripped apart by some demon, or worse, spilling your quickening to some ignorant whelp who would never understand your sacrifice. I would hate to see your light extinguished from this world." He shifted, reaching into his knapsack, pulling out two more bottles. "But not today. You must be sure and so must I. I won't give you a permanent solution to a temporary problem. Take a year, put your memories in perspective, and put your life in order. If you still wish to leave this life at the end of a year, yes. If you ask it of me then,I will take your life." He sat down beside her, his back to the tombstone, and put his arm around her. She leaned her head on his shoulder. They sat and watched the sun set.


	29. For Good or Bad Ch 29

**For Good or Bad, The Memories Remain. **

**Chapter 29**

Disclaimer- I don't own Buffy, I just use her in my writing, just for fun, never for profit "Because that's wrong!"

Spoilers- mid 4th season then everything takes a left turn off the charted path

Rating- May get to R eventually

Buffy ran into the person she figured least to see. Willow was sitting in the cemetery she was crossing through around sunrise. Adam had just left after walking and talking all night. He had helped her, like he always did. He was like a rock in the middle of a raging river; all around him may be chaos but right behind him was a small calm part. She was more focused and a bit at peace with herself for the first time since her "Awakening several days ago. Of course she didn't recognize her at first. Willow's normally simple earthy attire she had migrated to from the perky "Hello Kitty" phase of fashion was gone. In its place was a touch of grunge with a twist of punk thrown in. Doc Martin's, faded and ripped jeans cuffed high, black spandex top under an old and faded green field jacket. This was a definite twist. And to top it off, her once beautiful bright hair was now a deep crimson, almost auburn. Willow was watching her walk across the damp lawn, a strange closed expression on her once open face. Willow's words from yesterday came back sharp as a razor in her mind, "Monster". And the sad thing was, she was right, Buffy was a monster. She fought for control of it every day, and most days she won. The day she feared was the day she couldn't muster the mental fortitude to fight it down. Willow grimaced as Buffy closed the range to the distance their 'Immortal Radar' set off its warning buzz in their heads.

"Hey Will, whatcha doing here?"

"700 years as the Slayer inside now, and I don't sleep well after dark." She snaps out.

The comment plunges straight into Buffy like a physical blow, twisting up her spine a deep dark shiver of cold that lands in her gut, a taste like ash in her mouth.

"Will you know I didn't do it on purpose! You of all people must know that!"

Buffy," she pauses, shaking her head, "or should I say Elisabetha, or, Genny, or Summer, or Mort Ange. Yes I know you, as well as you know yourself now. You wanted to escape your past, and now it's cost me most of my future. I'll never know what kind of person I could have become on my own. I can't just ignore what you gave me; it's too mixed in with everything. It affects how I react, what I do, what I like; everything. Willow Rosenberg died the other night. I don't know who I am, but I'm not her. Yesterday, I sawed another persons head off with a knife! That I was able to do it at all scares the shit out of me. That I didn't feel bad about it at the time haunts me. I don't even remember what that guy's name was. Now he's just another body in Sunnyhell. I have all the instincts of a Slayer, but not the strength, speed, or stamina. I know what its like to have all of that, and lost it because it was never really mine. So if I'm angry with you, now you know why." She stares at her shoes as she kicks her feet on the stone. "Tara won't have anything to do with me. What have I become Buffy, what's going to happen to me? When I fought with Radimer's goons, I didn't think about it, I reacted. The knowledge was there but my body just can't do it. And If I don't let the Slayer take over, I'd be beaten even faster. I'm scared."

Buffy stepped closer and used one hand to lift Willows face to look into her eyes. They were rimmed in unshed tears.

"Look at me Will. You will do fine. I believe in that one hundred percent. You survived for twenty years on the Hellmouth. You will do fine. You already are the second most powerful witch I know and the other has been doing it so much longer, it's almost cheating to compare you two. Then again, you did defeat one of her spells." She smirked at her, drawing a slight chuckle from Willow.

"Ok, I'll play along psycho-girl, what's next?'

"We need to deal with Radimer, and soon."

"You know, he does have a justifiable right and reason for revenge. You did kill his whole family, along with the rest of his village."

"To quote a friend; one of a thousand regrets Will, one of a thousand regrets"


	30. For Good or Bad Ch 30

**For Good or Bad, The Memories Remain. **

**Chapter 30**

Disclaimer- I don't own Buffy, I just use her in my writing, just for fun, never for profit "Because that's wrong!"

Spoilers- mid 4th season then everything takes a left turn off the charted path

Rating- May get to R eventually

Radimer looked over at the wild-eyed blond at the table with him.

"Is everything in place?"

"Of course, Radimer, do you think I would wait and plan all these years for my revenge on the slayer that killed my clan as well as your village, only to skip steps in the plan? I have almost a hundred vamp along with all the various magical assistance we could find, ready to destroy the slayer's whole little life here in Sunnydale, after which you can take your time torturing her until you take her head." Her eye showed a particularly evil gleam as she discussed the slayer's demise." what's up with the immortals that have started showing up all over town?"

"Well, several of them are mine, and some are drawn by the Hellmouth's mystic energy. It shouldn't be a factor. I just might pick up a few on the side." He smirked at the idea.

"Larrissa, I need you to begin taking a toll on the locals, so as to draw the slayer out, but try and stay off f holy ground. Once you spot the slayer, track and relay to me so my teams can close in. I need to find out anyone she is close to other than the little red-headed newbie. I need to destroy her world, make her feel the pain of loosing everything. That will make her weak and vulnerable. She will beg me to end the pain and torment, and I will then take her head."

Larrissa remembers back to the day she first saw Radimer. He rode into the recently destroyed village, devastated by the total destruction of his family's village. He collapsed in grief at the home of his parents. Darkness fell, he was still there. She crept from her hiding place deep within the dung pile in the garden, her only refuge from the sun and Slayer. She saw something beyond hope, a tender morsel to restore her failing strength. She pounced. He had given up on life and never struggled. She drained him dry and cast him aside, prepared to search out the rest of her vampire brethren when her ears heard the unbelievable. A human heartbeat. He was alive; after she was sure she had drained him well past the point of death, and distinctly remembered the ceasing of his heart. She returned to the young man, curiosity aroused. He seemed to be recovering quite well. This puzzled her enough to begin to question him, and answer his questions about what had happened in the village. In time she told him of the Slayer's attack, killing everything in an attempt to drive the peaceful vampire clan that had been co-existing in the village for centuries, to the surface so the might be slain. It appeared they were the only two survivors of this atrocity. They pledged to go out, grow stronger and once strong enough, and get revenge. It has taken several hundreds of years for them to amass enough wealth, knowledge and resources to accomplish their goal. The time was near to fulfill their blood oath to each other.

"Radimer, you must let me drain her a few times before you kill her."

"Sure, my sweet" he replied, leaning to kiss her pale cheek.

To be continued

All Reviews Welcome


	31. For Good or Bad Ch 31

**For Good or Bad, The Memories Remain. **

**Chapter 31**

Disclaimer- I don't own Buffy, I just use her in my writing, just for fun, never for profit "Because that's wrong!"

Spoilers- mid 4th season then everything takes a left turn off the charted path

Rating- May get to R eventually

Buffy woke up a bit disorientated. She looked at where she was and tried to remember how she got there. She was staring at a familiar ceiling . She was in her own room laying on her bed. She tried to move, and immediately felt immense pain and stiffness. She could feel herself encrusted with some sort of sticky gu that had hardened. It cracked and crinkled as she started to move. A groan next to her gave her pause. She tried to turn her head, painful as it was. The dim light filtering in through the window barely provided enough illumination for most people but to Slayer senses, it was still far too bright for her headache. The woman next to her was cover in crusting blood, vamp dust, and several other fluids she couldn't readily identify. She wracked her brain for a few brief seconds until she realized it was Willow next to her on the bed. Looking at the state she was in, she shuddered to think of her own appearance. Her mind slowly caught up to the circumstances of last night.

She was on patrol with Willow shortly after dark, when their attention was attracted by leaping flames at one of the older graveyards in town. Flames normally mean ritual in Sunnyhell. As they moved closer, they could see that far from the normal bonfire with demons, it was a car that had been set on fire at some point in the destruction process. Buffy got a cold feeling in the pit of her stomach She recognized the type of car, and it was rare enough these days that a coincidence would be a bit to far in the odds for even Sunnyhell. They slowly crept by the burning hulk of the Sunbeam Tiger, drawing blades out. She noticed bullet holes and bash marks on what sheet metal remained of the car. Both of them noticed a large swath of trampled ground leading away from the car. As they followed, they could begin to hear the sounds of movement up ahead. It was dying down as they moved closer along the fresh trail leading into a small grove of trees. The ground was churned as if by the passage of many people. The limbs of the trees had been ripped and torn from the passageway. Buffy was growing concerned at what she might find. The trail opened to a small clearing. Across the clearing was a sight that chilled both girls to the bone.

A large x made of timbers had been erected behind a large slab of rock. On the slab was the remains of what must have been a person. On the frame of timbers was a long thin body of a woman, torn, broken and covered in blood. She must have been in immense pain before she died due to the massive wounds made to her body. As Buffy and Willow got closer, they could see burn marks, deep cuts , what appeared to be several brands were burned into her flesh, most of the bones in her hands were badly broken, and her limbs were held to the rack with iron spikes driven through the bones in the lower arms and legs. Her pain was only ceased by an iron spike driven through her chest. Willow was stunned, unable to move. The sheer horror of what this person had to endure boggled her mind. She was only able to move after Buffy called t her three times to help her get the woman down. It was as she was helping that she finally saw the woman's face. It was Sasha. Buffy was working franticly trying to get Sasha free , knowing that since she still had her head, they had to get her free so she could revive and heal. Otherwise she would keep reviving only to die of the spike in her chest again and again. They worked for several minutes to try and free her from the rack. As Sasha dropped free, a note was revealed pinned to the timbers behind Sasha's body. Buffy snatched it up and read it.

"Elisabetha, First your friends, then everyone who ever cared for you, then you."

Gunshots rang out, Willow was hit. Then the demons attacked.

To Be Continued

All Reviews Welcome

Anybody still reading?


	32. For Good or Bad Ch 32

**For Good or Bad, The Memories Remain. **

**Chapter 32**

Disclaimer- I don't own Buffy, I just use her in my writing, just for fun, never for profit "Because that's wrong!"

Spoilers- mid 4th season then everything takes a left turn off the charted path

Rating- May get to R eventually

The combat was all jumbled, filled with blood, tears and fire. Willow was hit with a bullet in the opening salvo, and crumpled to the ground. Buffy dropped Sasha's limp body to the ground to have some chance of putting up some struggle. She had the iron stake from Sasha's chest in one hand and her short sword in the other. She accounted for quite a few bodies. The few demons stayed further back and let the vamps do most of the dieing while they worked their magics and such. Buffy had lost herself in the pure rush of unrestrained combat, a no holds barred fight for her life. She knew that she couldn't win and she was determined to take as many of them with her as she could. She had been a captive before and that though terrorized her more than dieing did. She still had Sasha's blood all down her chest from where she was carrying her and it was caked in vamp ash. She never noticed. She felt the unmistakable swell of powerful magic in the air and feared that the demons had finally completed the ritual and tapped into whatever evil they were attempting to do. She spared a glance in the direction of the bone numbing cold of summoned magic and stumbled in shock. Willow was floating ten feet in the air, she was wreathed in black flames, surrounded in a dark nimbus of magic that formed what appeared like wings of some great predatory bird from her and caused her jet black hair to float like a dark mockery of a halo around her head. A deep arcane command ripped forth from her, freezing everyone in their tracks, demons, vampires and humans alike. Several humans floated into the middle of the clearing, struggling weakly until they spotted Willows flame enshrouded form. Then the wailing frantic struggles began, along with some seriously wet trousers as fear claimed their bladders. Willow descended to the ground and slowly walked over to the humans, still surrounded by the dark flaming wings and halo. The voice that came from willow sounded like nothing she had ever heard from her friend.

"You dare interfere with me! You insignificant little creatures! You let yourselves be manipulated by Radimer to do his dirty work! He would have killed you when he was done, that's his way, it's what he does. You had the chance to live a hundred lifetimes, see so much good, and here you are trying to kill the very people who help hold back the evil in the night! That will be the last mistake, for I AM the evil in your night." She makes a gesture and the 5 humans drop to their knees, arms pinned at their sides. In Willows hand appears a sword of infinite darkness, its blade seeming to drink in the very firelight illuminating the scene before her. Buffy looks on in horror at what is going on. She has seen the magical effect other times, and knows it's source and the sweet seduction of its raw power and purity of purpose, but she had never before seen it from this point of view, always it was around herself, extending from her arms, and wrapping herself in its cold fire. Her lips mouthed the words even as Willow pronounced them.

"Behold! I AM the Angel of Death! And I have come to claim your souls!"

To Be Continued

All Reviews Welcome

A/N: Anybody still reading?


	33. For Good or Bad Ch 33

**For Good or Bad, The Memories Remain. **

**Chapter 33**

Disclaimer- I don't own Buffy, I just use her in my writing, just for fun, never for profit "Because that's wrong!"

Spoilers- mid 4th season then everything takes a left turn off the charted path

Rating- May get to R eventually

The fury of five simultaneous quickenings ripped through the clearing, devastating all in the area. Willow collapsed in a heap from such a rapid influx of so much. Buffy watched in horror as the demons moved much faster than Willow seemed to be recovering. Buffy forced herself to move, she must protect her friend. As she got closer to her, she could still see some of the residual energy coursing over Willows skin, causing some twitching and groaning. Buffy got to Willow first, barely winning the race. She planted one foot on each side of Willows prone form, fully intent on protecting the young witch with her very life. The demons rushed her, the classic hit hard and squish tactic. Buffy used every bit of Aikido she could pull from her memory to keep her place and toss the demons past her in a slowly loosing battle for possession of Willow's unconscious form. She was able to put a few slices and jabs with her short sword while she was at it, all in a hope that she might survive long enough for Willow to recover. The demons were doing quite a bit of damage but could not seem to budge the young blond Slayer. They continued to hammer at her and drive at her to no avail, every time they thought a particular wound would stop her, she would survive and not fall. Buffy was growing weak from blood loss and overall damage piling up but steadfastly refused to yield. As the field began to grey in her vision, another voice joined the growls of the demons. A thin high keening she hadn't heard in over a hundred years, the words and tones leaped to her mind and she began to sing the song of carnage and death that she had once learned and later taught to her students. It screamed of death everlasting and of blood. The two voices met in perfect harmony, filling her with a renewed sense of hope as the demons were unsettled by their sudden attack from the rear. A dark haired whirling dervish of pain and destruction was decimating their numbers. Finally the last two fled to the treeline, anxious to escape the singing death maidens.

"Whatever possessed you to burst out in song, much less that tune Sasha?" Buffy asked as she bent down to check the slumbering Willow.

"Gee, I don't know, maybe it was slowly coming conscious to the sight of my teacher fighting overwhelming odds after hearing an angel of death proclamation and a massive quickening. I was having flashbacks and went with the nostalgia. And thanks for rescuing me." She said, as she pulled Buffy's coat off her and began to wrap her naked form.

"We need to figure out a way to stop Radimer before shit like this happens again. I don't like it, but I think we need to track down a few people and put the puzzle together and stop Radimer. All of this is too much to be a coincidence." Buffy scooped Willow up and proceeded to carry her back to the cemetery and holy ground.

To Be Continued

All Reviews Welcome


	34. For Good or Bad Ch 34

**For Good or Bad, The Memories Remain. **

**Chapter 34**

Disclaimer- I don't own Buffy, I just use her in my writing, just for fun, never for profit "Because that's wrong!"

Spoilers- mid 4th season then everything takes a left turn off the charted path

Rating- May get to R eventually

The stone felt cool on her back. She slowly came to, realizing she was staring up at a tree. She heard movement around her. She prepared a spell she wasn't sure where she had heard of , but knew that it would allow her to escape if she needed it. She glanced around and relaxed. Buffy and Sasha were a few feet away talking quietly. She started to sit up and instantly regretted it as a wave of nausea washed over her. Buffy saw the movement and moved to her side.

"Willow, you shouldn't move right now, you need to lie still and let your body recover otherwise you will be throwing your guts up all over the place. Trust me, I know….."Her voice falls to a whisper. "Will, I know what you did and ……" words fail her. She hesitantly envelops Willow in a hug.

_Later_

Buffy begins laying out the plan.

"Sasha, I need you to go find the true Slayer for this time. Her name is Faith and there are complications."

"It's ok Elisabetha, I got filled in by Mr. Giles. I assume that I'm tracking down the nut job since she would vanish if she cough a single glimpse of one of you guys."

"Right, and it's Buffy now, I'm trying to look ahead."

"Sure thing 'Buffy'"

"Willow" The witch looked over at Buffy at the mention of her name. "Willow, I need you to go find Johneen for me, I think she is part of all this in some twisted way. Or she will be before this is all said and done with. The same reasons apply, If she saw me or Sasha, then she would start out defensive. What we need to do is gather all of us here.

Willow looks sideways at Buffy and Sasha and then to the grass at their feet. "Once I find her, then what?"

"Both of you bring them here so we can finish this and set everything right."

_Meanwhile at Giles'_

Joe, Joyce and Giles sit around the living room, the floor littered with various books, tomes and scrolls. Joe is alternating between his cell phone and his laptop while Joyce is reading a fairly modern book. Giles is reading a tome in a language that they can only guess at. Finally he looks up with a startled look on his face.

"It's all pointing to the same thing, the Compass Prophesy. " He stands up and heads to his shelves and pulls more books and sets them by his chair. "Joe, we need to get info on the other immortal slayer, to see if she still lives and where. She is the missing piece, unless you count death himself."

Joe looks up at him, a wistful look in his eyes, "I need to make a few calls to get the info and to pass on that I will be here a few days.

_Elsewhere_

She sobbed into his shoulder, deep wracking sobs that drained everything from her. " She's gone! I can't feel her anymore Xander, her soul is gone!"

"SSSSHHHH, it will be ok Tara, I'm sure your mistaken, I'm sure she's fine" as he holds the shuddering woman, praying she was wrong.

To Be Continued

All Reviews Welcome

A/N: Anybody still reading?

I will write the continuation of the story in all it's parts but it will be up to the reviewers as to which order I do them in. after I work all the parts, then they will all work back together for the finale.

Willows search in "The Missing"

Sasha's search in "Slayer's Duty"

Elisabetha's redemption in "This Hollow Flesh"

Giles' /Joe's/ Joyce's work in "Path of the Chosen"


	35. For Good or Bad Ch 35 This Hollow Flesh ...

For Good or Bad, The Memories Remain.

Ch 35

This Hollow Flesh pt 1

Disclaimer- I don't own BTVS, nor the impending crossover, I only own my created characters, for all the good that does me.

Spoilers- mid 4th season then everything takes a left turn off the charted path

Rating- May get to R eventually

The Angel Of Death. An older thing set in motion by the Powers That Be. An older attempt at influencing things for the side of good using methods that were definitely not good. Sometimes the methods of the side of good aren't quite up to what needs to be done. An infected limb needs to be cut off before it poisons the whole body, and so must some things, people and ideas be combated with the most vicious methods. The methods are viewed as evil, but the results were good in the end. It also provided a route for the PTB to channel some of the dark forces it could tap it a constructive end. unlike the later meddling and such with their "Champions", the mantel of "Angel of Death" was a conscious choice. the individual chose to assume the position, and in doing so, wold gain certain powers and abilities. this had a cost though. A willingness to callously act as the right hand of death himself, striking down those beings both supernatural and mortal alike as you deemed fit also sundered you from most of the higher emotions such as love and compassion as well as blocking such self defense emotions as fear, regret, remorse, and pity. As I saw Willow willingly take on the mantel, knowing what she was giving up, part of me wept. I knew what it was like, having worn the mantel for so many years, been the PTB's pawn in the struggles for so many lifetimes. I wouldn't have wished it on Willow, and it's so much sadder since I know that she learned about its existence though her knowledge from my memories and with those memories came the knowledge of what such an existence did to me, yet she still chose it. I wonder if I would have the guts to embrace it again knowing what I know. It seems that all of my past is returning to exact it's revenge upon me. Buffy must endure and survive the sins of Elisabetha. I will try one day at a time.

To Be Continued

All Reviews Welcome


	36. For Good or Bad Ch36

**For Good or Bad, The Memories Remain. **

**Chapter 36**

Disclaimer- I don't own Buffy, I just use her in my writing, just for fun, never for profit "Because that's wrong!"

Spoilers- mid 4th season then everything takes a left turn off the charted path

Rating- May get to R eventually

Duncan sat grumbling into his coffee, the newspaper laying in front of him on the table unread. He gazed out into space, the thoughts flowing fast and unbidden into his head. He saw her body lying broken on the rocks, her throat ripped to tatters. She had tried to tell him about the monsters in the village. He told her she was mistaken; there were no monsters in the village. He was wrong. He remembers the story told to him by her father. A vicious woman came into town, grabbed his daughter and staked her out in the middle of town square as bait to bring in the monsters. Evidently there were more than the women expected. Before the killing spree was over, half the village lay dead. As the woman left, she told the survivors that she would return to destroy any monsters that escaped, as well as any villager caught harboring them in any way. A gruesome story to be sure but there was one major problem; there were no bodies of the 'monsters', just dead villagers. He never forgot what he was told next. The bloodthirsty little bitch proclaimed to the village elders "Do not oppose me. To do so will be to aid my enemies. I am Death's Angel. I will not be stopped!" That was many years ago but now with the info that the "Angel of Death" has resurfaced; he can fulfill his promise from ages ago when he buried Jessica. One hitch: he couldn't involve Dawson, especially since Dawson had made him promise. He had to track down her location, and then the "Angel of Death will meet her fate!


	37. For Good or Bad Ch 37

**For Good or Bad, The Memories Remain. **

**Chapter 37**

Disclaimer- I don't own Buffy, I just use her in my writing, just for fun, never for profit "Because that's wrong!"

Spoilers- mid 4th season then everything takes a left turn off the charted path

Rating- May get to R eventually

In L.A.-

There was a new predator in town. Angel had only caught snippets of info from the street but what he got worried him. Someone has declared war on the lowlife scum and demons, and he knew it wasn't Faith. He suspected it was Buffy trying to smoke Faith out of the woodwork for a 'final solution' moment. Normally he wouldn't be too opposed to a bit of destruction of the vermin of the town , but he didn't want to face Buffy and have to stop her from killing Faith. He felt that Faith had truly reformed. Maybe he and Faith should take a trip up the coast for a while and avoid the issue.


	38. For Good or Bad Ch38

**For Good or Bad, The Memories Remain. **

**Chapter 38**

Disclaimer- I don't own Buffy, I just use her in my writing, just for fun, never for profit "Because that's wrong!"

Spoilers- mid 4th season then everything takes a left turn off the charted path

Rating- May get to R eventually

Elsewhere in L.A.-

" And they found his body lying next to his own severed head, the fourth such in six days"

The cops were stumped by the latest rounds of killings. Quite violent, yet they were mostly confined to the bad sections of town. They were highly concerned by the high profile nature of the case but weren't overly sad to see the ruffians go.

Inspector Jarrod was furious. He knew the killings were all connected but he had so many extraneous pieces that he wasn't sure which one to chase.

"Well, I'll just have to chase them all."


	39. Chapter 39

**For Good or Bad, The Memories Remain. **

**Chapter 39**

Author's notes: yup, deployed again, so I have returned to the story after a forced hiatus. First, we clean up some plot edges with chapters' 36-40ish, and then get to the meat.

I have been afraid to reach out to people for most of my life. I have been fortunate to have met some wonderful people and expand my knowledge of the world of the arcane in ways I would have never imagined not long ago. All through the love of a wonderful shy redhead I met at a Wicca group. Willow and I had a love we never knew was possible. The Hell mouth hates happiness, love and all things of its ilk and so it must destroy any it finds. A few nights ago, Willow was killed, and something different has taken her place. Xander doesn't believe me but hopefully Giles will. I must make them understand that there is a deep-seated evil brewing in what was once Willow. I haven't approached Buffy. I don't think she meant to do this thing but what horrible things must she have done to unleash this effect. Buffy wears death like a cloak, wrapping its darkness around herself, but there has always been a little of that with her. Now I see it in Willow, only mixed with so much anger and hate. A hate surpassing what I saw in Faith. I fear for what I may have to do to stop Willow and maybe Buffy as well. We have already had one evil slayer; I can't bear a repeat of that disaster, or worse.


	40. For Good or Bad Ch 40 The Missing, pt 1

**For Good or Bad, The Memories Remain. **

**Chapter 40 "The Missing, pt 1"**

The large sleek car rolled along the coastal highway, the storm-churned surf below a thousand different switchbacks and shear drop-offs. This was the serenity and beauty of Highway One going along the California coast and up through Oregon to Washington State. This was the reason the auburn-haired driver chose this route. She had some major life issues to iron out in addition to finding Johneen. The pleasure of gliding the massive muscle car through twisty turns wasn't one of the things that used to bring her pleasure. In fact she used to be quite nervous to drive even a little geo metro. That car would fit in the trunk of her current ride. A car given to her by her once second best friend as well as the passion for driving. A friend that held a million secrets, and now she knows them all, including the thousand different names she had used. Buffy Summers. The name still fits her but now she knows that "Buffy "was a desperate mask worn to escape the past and the weight of 900 years of living a violent life as an immortal slayer. The auburn haired girl, all of 20 herself, now knew what that was like, having had every memory that "Buffy" had ever had rammed into her brain, in crystal clear detail. She now knew every though the little blond slayer had ever had, every emotion and every secret. Aye, and there lay the rub. All of this info taints her own perception of life. She can never go back to the simple college student that slings magic to save the world upon occasion. She can also never go back to only figuring to live another 3-5 years living in the shadow of the hell mouth. The girl who would have never bet to see 16, then 20 now could live to see a thousand. She just has to fight to carve the knowledge she can use from the emotional landmines of Buffy's memories to create her own. She stops at one of the scenic overlooks with a commanding view of the setting sun. She gets out of the massive black beast and sits watching the blood red sun setting over a storm tossed sea. As the sunset faded into twilight, she rose and thanked the goddess for such a beautiful experience. She felt a little more at ease with herself. As she slid into the driver's seat she caught a glimpse of herself and had to stop for a moment. She looked herself dead in the eye and said out loud "I Am Willow Rosenberg. I am Immortal. I cannot die. "


	41. Chapter 41

**For Good or Bad, The Memories Remain. **

**Chapter 41**

Xander sat on the grass in the cemetery, one of over 70 in Sunnyhell. He was staring in the direction of a particular tombstone. He came here sometimes to think and work things out in his head. He came to talk to Jesse. He knew better than anyone that he wasn't there, at least in body. Xander remembers the night he had to stake him. No, it's more a symbolic connection to him. He never told anyone in the group that he came here. He figured they would not know what to do with "goofy Xander" being all serious and introspective. He, Willow and Jesse had grown up damn near joined at the hip. They were the best of friends, inseparable. Inseparable at least until their eyes were opened to the real nature of Sunnyhell and Jesse got turned. Willow and he had grown closer in their grief and they poured themselves into helping their new friends Buffy and Giles fight the evil in the town that had claimed their childhood friend. He periodically would come here to update Jesse on the entire goings and the talking would help him put things into perspective. This time though, he was still confused. Giles had explained the whole thing to him, including the conversation he had with Tara and her fears about Willow's condition. He didn't know what to think. He didn't see evil, he saw hurt and distraught. He was beginning to question Tara's clarity and reasoning. She was new to the group, and he remembered the freak out in the dorm a scant 12 hours after Tara wanted to move heaven and earth to help Willow. She went from that to plotting her demise without even talking to her much less trying to help her.

"Jesse, in the end, I love her. She's our Wills. Willow isn't evil. You know that just as well as I do. It might come to a point that Tara may be the one that needs to be stopped"


	42. For Good or Bad Ch 42Slayer’s Duty pt 1

**For Good or Bad, The Memories Remain. **

**Chapter 42, "Slayer's Duty pt 1"**

She glided through the crowd on the dance floor making hardly a ripple. She had that talent when she wanted to, to pass without drawing much attention. It helped that she was in LA, a land swarming with beauties begging to be noticed. Anyone not shouting isn't heard. A few should have noticed her though. Her very presence should have set off alarm bells in their heads. People who had spent lifetimes sweeping crowds for just such people, the ones that were dangerous and wouldn't tolerate being prey without a fight. She slid up to the bar and flagged down a bartender.

" Drambuie" was her request, holding her fingers about two and a half inches apart as she pushed her mass of coal black hair behind one ear with her other hand, fixing the bartender with slate grey eyes over the rim of a pair of mid-eighties Wayfarer sunglasses.

"Drambuie, right. I think we have some over here" he replied, a little startled by such a young person requesting it, she couldn't be much more than 22 or 23. The usual drinker for that was your mid-30s to late 40s type, and he didn't get many in this club. He took another look at her as he brought her the drink. She was dressed simply but well, her clothes (except for the sunglasses) weren't dated. She was wearing a dark grey tee shirt, loose black pants and a kind of shapeless black cloth jacket that reminded him a little of the field jacket he wore in the military.

"Thanks, keep it handy'" she replied as she slid a ten-dollar bill across the bar and glided back out to the crowd. She slid along the edge of the dance floor, leaving in and out with no apparent plan or destination. The few who took notice in her passing quickly moved on, vaguely unsettled by her but not necessarily realizing it is her causing their feelings. She stopped her aimless wandering and ventured out into one of the darker sections of the dance floor, drink still in hand. A couple was dancing in one of the darkest corners. This was where she moved. She smoothly stepped between the tall gyrating guy and his 'date'. The young girl immediately went ballistic.

"Hey! Who the fuck do you think you are? Miss tall dark and stupid! He's my date! Just waddle your ass somewhere else before I…" She falls silent mid rant as the tall girl leans into her boyfriend, whispers something, and he disappears in a cloud of dust. The tall one turned, looked the speechless girl, said quietly "You're welcome", and glided off into the crowd in search of something.

She came upon a group of five or six people in an alcove quietly sipping their drinks and watching the crowd like people in the supermarket looking at the lobster tank. She slowly stepped into the alcove with them, weaving a little as she sipped the last of her drink. She made a disappointed face as she reached the bottom of the glass.

"All gone…..it's all gone," she pouted as she stumbled into one of the alcoves occupants, a rather large guy dressed in a business suit who inexplicably disappeared into a puff of dust. The looks of shock on the others faces, as the realized what happened were priceless. By the time they had their game faces on and started to react, they were already behind the curve. A long thin double-edged sword had appeared in the woman's hands. She was lopping limbs off at an unbelievable rate, only to have them vanish into dust before they hit the floor. She finished five vampires off with a speed and skill that made it seem that they just vanished. The sixth she had pressed up against the wall with one had on her throat, holding her about 6" above the floor. All pretence of a drunken floozy gone, replaced with the true image of a tall lithe killing machine, impossibly fast, impossibly strong.

"Where is she?" The woman punctuating every soft-spoken word with a squeeze of her murderously strong fingers on the Vampires throat.

"Don't know who you're talking about! I really don't!" The vamp squeaked, her voice trembling. She saw her own death in this ones eye. This one had already killed her master, the strongest most powerful vampire she had ever known.

"Seek her out, I must find the dark-haired slayer. Tell her to meet me at the St. Michel Cemetery at dawn any day this week. I have need to speak with her. To deliver this message, I will let you to continue to exist. Fail me in this, and I will hunt you down and stake you out on the beach to see the sunrise Do you believe me in this?" she asked staring directly into the demon things eyes.

"How am I supposed to find the slayer and live long enough to talk to her and…"she stopped mid-rant as her head was bounced off the wall.

"I said, do you believe that I will do these things" She growled, her face inches from the vampires face.

"Yes, yes I do" she gulped.

"Good, don't forget it, otherwise I will have to find another messenger and you will no longer serve a purpose." She released the vamp from her hold, letting her drop to the floor in a heap. "Now, begone."

"What are you?" the vampress queried as she rose holding her sore throat.

'In the old country, Ravens were considered a harbinger of death, a kind of living breathing prophecy. I am Rhavyn."

The Vampire ran from her presence. Rhavyn walked back up to the bar, feeling tired but not of body. She pushed the sunglasses up onto her head as she got to the bar. The bartender remembered her and brought another glass of Drambuie.


	43. For Good or Bad Ch43 Slayer’s Duty pt 2

**For Good or Bad, The Memories Remain. **

**Chapter 43, "Slayer's Duty pt 2"**

In some ways, it was good to move with a purpose again instead of just existing. She had done the vengeance thing on the watchers for so long that it was almost out of habit that she had hunted them. She hadn't thought so at the time but seeing Elisabetha again and dredging up all the old memories refocused her and even if she was still worried about Elisabetha's mental status, the elder slayer seemed to be repentent and renergized to the pure focus of the cause. There, she admitted that Elisabetha might have changed for the good.It might not be permanent but her mentor's moral compass was at least pointed in the right direction. In many ways she owed her more than her life could ever be worth. She taught her everything that she had used to survive the early years and the fruits of those lessons are still with her today. Some of them didn't make sense when she had them pounded into her then, but they made themselves known in their own time.

She was walking down the city streets deep in reflection, when a comotion drew her attention. A man was having a heated discussion with his spouse/girlfriend/whatever and had become physical. He stood about 6' and was slapping her around until her 5'1" frame collapsed to the sidewalk. By this time Rhavyn had smoothly slid up behind him. As he began to swing, she caught his hand in hers and spun him around.

"You really shouldn't do that" her soft-spoken lightly-accented voice cutting through the night air more than a scream would, her grey eyes flairing behind her sunglasses.

"Shut the hell up bitch or your next! Do you see this Dara? Stick girl wants me to stop giving you what you deserve! I aught to give her some too. Do you see what you caused? Answer me you worthless cunt!" He swung his right foot to deliver a powerful kick to Dara's ribs. The blow never landed. The supporting leg received a vicious kick to the inside of his left knee, snapping all the ligiments and tendons free from their moorings. His knee folded sideways in a mannor never intended in the design. As he fell sideways, Rhavyn reached out and caught his right arm, jerking savagely down and back with a twisting motion to destroy all ability to use his shoulder. While she had the arm in her hand , she planted a solid kick to his armpit, crushing the lymph node bundle and corresponding nerves. At this point she paused, for almost a full second, to contemplate her next move. She got a wisp of a smile on her face as she remembered a brief aquainance from the early seventies and his no frills style in spite of his theatrics. She leaped up and came straight down, punching out with both legs straight down, adding all her leg muscle power to her body weight in a double foot stomp on his pelvic crest with bone shattering force. She left out the extended scream her friend was famous for, figuring that this dumbass was doing enough screaming for the both of them as he flopped about, screaming that quickly got on her nerves. She stopped his screaming with a well placed crushing blow to the back of his neck, collapsing his windpipe and snapping his 3rd cervical vertibrea into half a dozen jagged pieces His screams switched off like a smashed lightbulb.

"Ma'am, you both were attacked by several muggers, that will explain your bruises and his demise. Use this fresh start wisely." She didn't even wait for an answer, she just walked off into the darkness


	44. For Good or Bad Ch 44 The Missing, pt 2

**For Good or Bad, The Memories Remain. **

**Chapter 44 "The Missing, pt 2"**

She stretched out on the hood of her car, resting against the windshield, hands behind her head. She stared at the morning sky. She was in a small park in Seacouver along a popular jogging route. She hoped the man she knew to be the best contact for the local area would hold true to his passion for fitness. She would rather meet him out here than come upon him in his own dojo. She had adjusted her dress and appearance to try to put forward a good impression. Her auburn hair was the shade of recently spilled blood. Her magically lengthened hair was braided into a single ponytail. Her attire was simple elegance; black pants, red shirt, grey greatcoat and thin white leather gloves. She took a sip of her coffee and leaned back to wait.

Duncan was out for a run to try to clear his head for the upcoming hunt but other worries kept intruding. Ritchie hadn't called or shown up in the last month, Methos ran out the other day after receiving a cryptic phone call, the anniversary of Tessa's death was looming and he was feeling very old. He ran down the park road trying to loose himself in the exertion. The feeling of another Immortal came on rather quick and strong. He slowed, scanning everywhere for the source. The only person he saw was the young lady lounged on the hood of the black '71 Superbird. Looking directly at him. Mystery solved. He began looking for escape route as she hopped off the car, then stopped as she tied the waist belt of her coat shut, effectively making it much harder for her to draw a sword if that was her intention. He was now a bit intrigued and slowly walked forward.

"I am Duncan Macleod of the Clan Macleod, and you are?" he queried.

"Willow, just Willow." She replied with a bit of a pause as if to gather her thoughts. "I've come here looking for another who might be in the area, just to talk."

"And who might this 'other' be that you think I might know? And while we are on the subject, why me and why should I tell you?" he asked. The red head seemed to collapse inward as if a great weight rested upon her shoulders, looking down at her feet. When she looked back up, he noted a change her eyes. They looked hollow, bereft of anything but stabbing pain. She undid her coat and pulled a sword out, tossing it point first in the ground between them

"Petra said you might be willing to help and would at least talk with me" she replied with great weariness.

Macleod moved forward with a mixture of pain and rage. "Petra's been dead for 30 years, what kind of trick do you think your going to pull! Were you the one to kill her?" he exclaimed as he strode forward to retrieve the sword between them. He recognized the Navy Boarding Cutlass that he had gifted Petra with, it suited her small stature and provided a devastating weapon rarely expected from one so small. Once he had his hands on the cutlass, he felt both better and worse. Better, that he armed himself, worse that the memories of a lost student were dredged up in such a manner. He was advancing on her when he saw her react to an unseen thing, moments later he felt it, another Immortal.

"Ah, I should have known! The little Girl Scout would run back to her Boy Scout teacher. Don't worry Macleod; I'm not here for you, yet. I'm here to challenge the little red head. She has been avoiding me for the last 800 miles." Macleod looked over to see a medium build older looking gentleman step from the trees holding a longsword. He looked back at the redhead. She seemed to be crying.

"Duncan, Petra's alive, you MUST believe me! I have to go and take care of this one, I never wanted to bring you trouble. I have to clean up my own mess." Tears are coursing down her cheeks. She fumbles in her coat for a moment then tosses him something. It's a cell phone. "Duncan, if he walks out of the trees, please take the car, get out of here and call speed dial number 3……..tell them Willow didn't make it" She was visibly shaking now. "Macleod, Petra's on speed dial number 4, but please don't call unless I don't come back."

"Willow, what did you do that this man wants you dead?"

"I exist," she said in a soft voice as she turns and walks toward the trees.


	45. For Good or Bad Ch 45 The Missing, pt 3

**For Good or Bad, The Memories Remain. **

**Chapter 45 "The Missing, pt 3"**

Macleod was torn, and in the end, he did exactly nothing. He waited for the outcome of the battle in the trees. He was still skeptical about Petra still being alive but the girl seemed to be sincere and had yet to ask for anything. She didn't try to get him to fight her fight for her. Something wasn't right though. She seemed to sense the other's arrival before he did. That usually denoted that she must be older but she didn't match up to anyone he knew of. Petra might be alive! The thought rebounded around in his head as he waited the conclusion of the fight. He could still picture the little blond spitfire that he found recovering from what was her first death at the hands of muggers in a cemetery. She took to combat as if born to it. She always seemed to be trying too hard to be happy. He never had a chance to find out what bad things she was trying to forget. She was challenged and in the ensuing fight was killed, or so a friend told him, and she was never seen again. Now to find out she survived! Nevertheless, why did she disappear? He will find out soon enough. Whether Willow wins or not he means to have answers! He could hear faint sounds of clanging steel and voices shouting, correction a male voice shouting, a burst of something that might have been Latin, and then silence. The power of the quickening was surprising, and it was a bit unusual in that the blue-white bolts of energy were intermingled with black bolts of energy as well. A few moments later, the battered and bruised redhead came from the trees. She was carrying her challenger's longsword. As she approached the back of her car, the trunk opened. She threw the blade haphazardly into the trunk, closed it and moved toward the driver's door. She looked at Duncan with eyes that showed a sadness and fear so strong that it struck him almost like a physical blow.

"Duncan, I need your help. I need to find a particular female Immortal. She's about 5'7", dark blonde, medium build, but the most striking feature is her eyes; they are a bright amber color. I'm not here for her head, I just need to meet her and talk. That's all, just talk, Holy ground, cemetery, monastery, church, synagogue, druid's grove, Reverend Bob's Chapel of Love, whatever. I need to find her. It has to do with Petra. Will you help me?"

"I need to know more, but we should talk somewhere else. Your light show will probably have attracted attention." He said stepping to the passenger side of her car.

"Hopefully somewhere I can get a half gallon mocha." She said as she climbed into her 'black beast' as she had affectionately named it.

Duncan eyed the interior of the car with a critical eye and concluded that ether this was a perfect restoration or a perfectly maintained original condition Superbird. He was duly impressed. He extended his inspection to the driver. Her skin seemed unusually pale where he would have expected her to be flushed with the exertion of a fight and the subsequent Quickening, especially one of that size. She was piloting the gargantuan car with considerable skill and reserve. He had irrationally expected her to drive it with the reckless abandon that Richie did because she seemed to be about the same age. As long as he had been Immortal, he still had to catch himself judging people by their appearance. She took his directions coolly. He led them to a small coffee shop run by a casual acquaintance of his. It was after the morning commuter rush and they had the place to themselves. He ordered a plain black coffee; the redhead ordered the quadruple espresso mocha. As they sat down at one of the tables, Willow removed her gloves and was basking in the warmth from her mug, staring intently into it as if to avoid looking at Duncan.

"Willow, how well do you know Petra?" Willow looked up, her eyes kinda wistful as she contemplated the answer. She thought over the 700 years of experiences that she had absorbed from her friend Petra, also known as Buffy, Elisabetha, Genny, Summer, Mort Ange, Genvieve, or a host of other names. She thought about all the good times, the horrible losses, the friends lost and worse, the ones she had to kill. The memories threatened to swallow her up, she was drownding in them. She grasped at the newest ones, the ones she knew were hers, no dual perspective. This line brought her around to her most recent activities, her own immortal quickenings taken. At this she had to clench her jaw to keep from hurling right here on the table. She pushed the Mocha away with a sweep of her arm. "What is it Willow?" Duncan was worried, she hadn't moved for quite a few moments since he had asked about Petra. He lay his hand over hers on the table snapping her out of the depths of her mind.

"Almost everything I know came from Petra. She made me the woman I am today" she replied , the bitter sarcastic edge to her voice showing through.


	46. For Good or Bad Ch 46 The Missing, pt 4

**For Good or Bad, The Memories Remain. **

**Chapter 46 "The Missing, pt 4"**

They sat and talked. When the coffee ran dry, they went to dinner. This pattern repeated several times over the following week. Duncan found Willow to be a strange mix of both innocence and knoledge. She knew so much about the realm of Immortals yet she had only been one a short time. She wouldn't say how long. It seemed Petra absorbed a great deal from him in the short time she knew him and had caught on quite well. Willow didn't talk much about Petra other than she was in trouble and needed to find Johneen. After the second day Willow revieled that she knew witchcraft. This wasn't the big shock it might have been to Duncan prior to meeting Cassandra. They hung out, and reasearched what they could. After a while Duncan said he had to get with someone else that might be able to help. By this time , Willow had revieled that Petra's problem was Radimer, just not why. They were in Duncan's dojo when they sensed an approaching Immortal.

"Hey Duncan, what is it that you need my knoledge and acess to track?" said the small framed , dark haired man who wlked into the Dojo. He came to a slow stop as he saw Willow behind Duncan give a sharp start of recognition at his appearance.

"Willow, I would like you to meet the person I was telling you about who maybe could help us find Johneen. Willow, this is Adam " he said, not picking up on her paler skin and rapid breathing brought on by her flood of images connected to her inherated knoledge of Adam, Methos, Death, and a dozen different names. She knew so many things, like the years Elisabetha spent studying every battle , every combat she could that Methos had been in, studied his tactics and worse, began to immulate him, pattern her style after his. The thrill of riding down on a village, a song of blood and fury in her heart. She would destroy all the unnatural creatures in a town as well as all who would harbor them and aid them, In those days she would prune quite severly from the tree.. All of the memories threatened to drown her in her own mind. The swell of dark power at her command as the Angel of Death, all a ploy to capitolize on the fear still instilled in the simple folk of the land. She remembered the quiet days talking with him walking through cemetaries, trying to put the screams of the dieing behind her. And yet all of this wasn't real, at least not for her, just for Buffy. She felt weak in the knees, and had to steady herself on the doorframe.

Duncan continued to explain the problem and Adam said he would do what he could. All of this transpired as if separated by a shroud from Willow. She smiled though, she knew if anybody could find Johneen, it was Death.


	47. For Good or Bad, Ch 47 The Missing, pt 5

**For Good or Bad, The Memories Remain. **

**Chapter 47 "The Missing, pt 5"**

She was impressed with his progress since she last saw him, at the fall Ren Faire. He might be far enough along that she could take him on as one of her students. If so, then he could work in the Fencing booth at the Spring Renaissance Faire with her and her other students. Three months of teaching the basics to any snot-nosed brat with $5 and seen a few Three Musketeers movies will pound the basics into his head. If he was willing to put up with that for the meager pay and snippets of instruction she could squeeze into the evenings, then he will also have shown his dedication to the art. 'Let's see what's next' as she left a textbook opening in her defenses. Predictably he rapidly attacked. His forms were good, his attacks proper, it was time to see how he did with the unexpected. Although they were attired for the Ren Faire here in Phoenix, they were using standard Olympic fencing rules and forms. That now changed.

The crowd was watching the bout with excitement. Normally at the fencing booth, the teachers were working with the average off the street person and looked casually bored. The bout between the tall thin woman in the black leathers and mask and the young guy in the gray fencing jacket was obviously a step above the normal level. The moves were much faster and the impact was much stronger. Some of the crowd was providing color commentary "Strike to the head blocked by parry five". To most in the crowd the guy in gray was the likely winner; he was attacking more, striking harder and generally appeared to be keeping the girl on the defensive. The crowd was growing larger. The combat more heated. The guy in gray attacked with a flourish.

An excited young guy at the front of the crowd alternated cheering the guy in gray and telling the crowd around him that "Chris is finally going to beat her" Beside him was a pair of people who were quietly watching the bout and conversing in low tones. They didn't look like the normal Ren Faire type of people but they definitely seem to appreciate what was going on in the bout.

"Shall I beat you with the modern or historical methods?" The lady in black quietly asked the kid in gray.

"Which ever you prefer Mistress. Either way, I'll try to win."

Most of the crowd missed the question. Chris's fan club didn't. "Oh crap, here it comes. He's dead" as he starts shaking his head. "She's had enough. She's been toying with him. Now she's going to make an example of him to the crowd." He explains to the people next to him. They shake their heads and watch the show as she begins the commentary. It isn't even the commentary of the match. Its a general speech on the history of Saber fighting and how it has evolved from cavalry combat to an Olympic sport. Chris seems to be holding his own as she talks but she seems to be leading him toward certain moves as she talks so she can illustrate her speech. Her breathing isn't labored, she's not out of breath, she doesn't pause for the fighting, and she just keeps on talking like she was standing at a podium. She even comments on the high caliber of Chris's form and capabilities. Meanwhile Chris is fighting with every trick and technique to stay alive in the match. The crowd grows silent as they realize that the 20-minute bout to this point has been a warm up for this.

"You've fought well today Chris. I might have a place this spring if your interested." she said in a pause in the history lesson. "Shall we finish this, no holds barred?" She said, knowing that by his honor, he just couldn't refuse.

"If I'm going to die, let's at least make it with style" as he launched himself at her. He was good, he was quick and he was accurate. None of it was enough. In a blaze of moves that only about 200 people alive today could identify, she defeated his attacks, destroyed his defenses, and scored the winning shot on the top of his mask with enough impact that Chris could smell the paint vaporized in the hit. All the crowd saw was the mystery woman in black explode into a frenzy of motion ending in the solid impact of her saber on his mask. She slides the fencing mask from her face. A long braid of redish-alburn hair falls to the center of her back; her pale complexion slightly flushed from the heat of the mask. She appears to be about 22-23 years old. The most striking thing about her appearance is her eyes, a pale gray flecked with olive green.

"Remember, the difference in the sport style and the combat style is that the sport needs speed more than power, where as, in combat, speed is mainly needed in parrying or blocking. A strike needs enough power to cut into your opponent, disable, maim or kill. Now, for all of you who might want to try your hand at what you have just seen, for a small donation, the instructors will teach you some of the techniques used here today. I turn you over to the instructors" as she steps away from the fighting area.

One of the instructors steps up to the crowd. "Lords and Ladies that was Mistress D'Arc, the head of our fighting Order and Lord Mistress of the Academy de Blade. Now we will be putting on a demonstration here…."

She walked away from the crowd back to the rear of the booth to get a drink and her sunglasses "Damn, it's bright here. I guess that it wouldn't do too well to hold these at night," she says as she puts on her Wayfarer sunglasses. She strips off her green skintight leather gloves, unlaces her black leather tunic to about mid-way down her chest and begins to towel off the sweat from the bout. She hears someone approach from behind.

"Yes?"

"Mistress D'Arc, you have some visitors" one of the instructors responds. She turns to find a pair of people dressed in what she would term 'nice but casual' that she couldn't help but to notice up front during the bout.

"Yes?"

The guy steps forward 'leaving his female companion a few paces back. "Is there some place we can talk in private?"

"Sure. Brett, make sure we aren't disturbed at all for 10 minutes. Now kids, how can I help you?" as she continues toweling.

"We have been looking for you, hoping you might have some information concerning another person once in your 'profession' " He says, as he looks her up and down examining every detail. She was approximately 6'1" tall, long, lanky build, well muscled without being bulky. She had very slim proportions. She was very graceful, very fluid and economical in her movement, calculated. She had fair skin, with pale lips. Her reddish-auburn hair was pulled into a single braid that fell to the center of her back. Most noticeable were her pale gray eyes, flecked with olive green. She could easily pass for a model, except for far too many things that showed in her eyes. She was wearing knee high Buffalo hide moccasins, with gray bone buttons, of a type very popular at the fair. Her worn black skin-tight lace front leather pants were tucked into the moccasin tops along with possibly a knife or two in each one. She tied some black split sided Hakima-style pants over her leathers. Her black leather lace-up tunic was unlaced to mid chest as she wiped the perspiration from her taut, well-tanned skin. She had a gray cloth wrap-around shirt she put on over the tunic. After which she buckled on a black rapier belt with black and blood red pouches held shut by ivory buttons. An deep grey petrified ivory hilted short-bladed Katana hung from the rapier belt hanger along with a pewter mug with a handle formed by black twisted rose stems. She then tucked a pair of green soft leather gloves at the left side of the dragon embossed red leather belt buckle. On her left wrist was a black-faced Omega Speedmaster watch. On her left hand she wore a single scratched and pitted stainless steel band around her ring finger. Perched on top of her head, also in total contrast to the total Renaissance theme was a pair of black-framed Ray-Ban Wayfarer sunglasses. She looked quite at home in the garb that with few mods would have been fine for an Indian scout in the earlier days of the westward expansion or two centuries earlier in the lowlands of Scotland or a century earlier than that in the fiords of Norway.

"Who are you looking for?" She asked as she poured a drink into her mug.

"We should really discuss this someplace else, Ma'am. I promise you will be well compensated for your time." He replied as he hands her a one hundred-dollar bill. "We could meet just about anywhere you want, as long as it affords us some privacy."

"I know just the place, a little club down around 19th and Greenway. The name of the place is the Jet, a little dive where they couldn't care less if the person next to them at the bar was purple. I still have some work to do here. How about we meet at " she glances at her watch "2100hrs. Sorry, old habit from my brother, 9 o'clock at the Jet."

" That would be fine, Ms Spada. 2100 hrs it is," he says as he and his companion walk away.

" Well, they obviously came here specifically to meet me, since nowhere do I advertise my real name" she says to no one in particular. "Brett, close up shop for me today, I told Randy I'd meet him and the kid at Chino Bandito tonight. You know me, can't miss that place whenever I'm here in town." She continues with the preparations to return to full costume for her 'Royal Court' appearance this afternoon at the Faire.

After a long and tedious day at the Faire, she hurried back to her tent to wash up and get ready for the evenings events, greeting and giving her regrets to her friends and acquaintances that she won't be at this evenings drunken revel, figuring she can miss one night (god! ren faire people partied hard!) She figures that she gave some of the younger ones a cheap thrill as she sponged off in front of the tent quickly before she got dressed. She noticed that her tan seemed accented by the fine network of white scars that covered her body, product of many years of practice with live blades, plus some she doesn't care to remember the cause of. She went with black jeans, a black silk top that clung to her like a coat of paint, her freshly resoled knee-high black leather boots, kept the watch and ring (never took them off) and then began to put on what Brett jokingly called 'her arsenal'; two Microtek Talon II automatic stilettos, one in each boot, three ebony chopsticks, an Emerson pocket folder, and her custom Katana in the special sheath in the back of her black Kevlar and leather trench coat. She hated that society had come to this point but she couldn't take a chance with her prized possessions left in the tent or the truck. Besides, with the drug gangs, rape gangs, not to mention demons, vampires and the like, a girl couldn't take too many chances. She learned her lesson (again) when they took her 'brother'. They beat the crap out of him because he tried to save his girlfriend, then they drained him, and made him one of them. She hoped he died quick, and didn't suffer like some of the others she had seen. She had been hiding from her past pain, trying to forget if at least a little while. At least here, with the ren faire and SCA people, she fit in; free spirits, deviants, long lost hippie wannabe's, non-judgmental, accepting, loving, protective. With these people, she was happy. 75 of them never knew her real name nor cared. She went for weeks at a time as Mistress D'Arc, the Weapons Instructor. Yet these people would give you the shirt off their back without hesitation. She changed her contact lenses, grabbed her Wayfarers, and left. She piloted the old Land Rover down I-17 to the restaurant for dinner and to meet an old friend from school. She had met Randy in her sophomore year at University of California, Riverside. She was a history major; he was a criminal justice major. They met in the school fencing club. She was the hot new fencer beating everyone in sight. She was also the cutest girl he had seen in the club for a long time including his girlfriend, Kathy. Her eyes welled up in tears just thinking about Kathy. The bastards had gutted her like a fish just to hear her scream.

"Stop it, it's in the past now, don't bring it up to Randy!" She screamed to herself in the truck. 'Why am I dwelling on this today? I know why, the nightmares came back, so the remembering has too.' She paused upon arriving at the little eatery she was meeting Randy at long enough to wipe the tears from her cheeks and spend a minute psycing herself up." No tears, you can cry when you're dead! No fear, no sorrow, emotion robs resolve! A blade is only effective with a focused mind!" After about 5 minutes of this, she felt ready to go in to eat with Randy and the kid.

Dinner was short. Randy knew what was filling the air with all the tension and didn't know how to dispel it. The old friends were happy to see one another but the death of his wife, especially at the hands of his best friend across the table, hurt. He knew Kathy wouldn't live after what the gang did to her but to have Beks have to put Kathy out of her misery was a task he thought he would never have had to ask for. Unfortunately he knew he couldn't kill her and Beks was the only other one there. He knew this was still as painful for her as it was for him. They sat in almost silence as they devoured plate after plate of the Chinese-Mexican combination food this place was famous for. After the pretense of food was gone, they talked for a short while, standard pleasantries such as 'how's school' and 'Tyra's getting awful big for only 3'. When it seemed that they would have to get down to meaningful conversation, she told Randy about her impending appointment, a perfect excuse to leave. She smiled at Randy, rubbed Tyra's head, and walked briskly to the door, never looking back.

The night air felt good to Beks as she walked briskly down the sidewalk toward the Jet, a dive she, Kathy and Randy used to hang out in a lot several years ago. Down the sidewalk, through the strip mall parking lot, quick cut between the Albertson's and the Sav-On and she's there, or so she thought. The Albertson's and the Sav-On are burned out shells now. It's all dark here. All her senses went into overdrive. She only had two blocks to go to the Jet. Movement in one of the buildings drew her attention like a beacon, more than one person moving. She found herself chanting to herself 'let them just be muggers' over and over. She got to the narrowest point, she figured that if they were going to make their move, it would be soon. She wasn't wrong. 5 guys stumbled out of the shadows, hoping their 'sudden' appearance would paralyze her in fear. The five guys were a little taken aback by the fact she wasn't trembling in fear already but they couldn't back down now without loosing face and they could have no idea that this victim wasn't afraid.

"Hey, guys! We got a little leather girly to play with for the night. She's even cute, for now." The leader growled as he flipped open a lockblade knife.

"Yeah, you will just love the way we'll use you. You'll never feel like having just one guy at a time again!" another goon chimed in.

'Great, a rape gang, at least I won't have any moral reservations against trashing these guys' she thought to herself, still as determined that she would die rather than submit to that fate again as the day she made the vow. She widened her stance and began evaluating her opponents, making her weapon selection. One had a lockblade, one had what appeared to be a tire iron, the other three had just their hands and blunt wits. She weighed her need for expediency, their intended crimes, and their probable past crimes. Conclusion: no mercy, no delay, full combat mode. With one hand in her jacket, she motioned to them with a sly grin, conspiracy and compliance written all over her body. Thinking that a willing plaything would be even better than forced (they could always return to force), they moved closer. 'Idiots' she thought as she tightened her grip on the smooth hilt of the katana. When they reached a distance of five feet, she brought the sword out from its hiding place in dramatic fashion. With a reverse grip (sword blade protruding from the bottom of her right hand) she brought the dark Damascus folded steel blade sweeping up in the classic earth-to-sky motion. The tip of the razor sharp blade entered just above the pelvic bone of her first target, slicing upward until it sheared through the ribcage, spilling the would-be rapist/gang member's internals all over the ground at his feet. Meanwhile, Bek's left hand joined the right on the grip of the weapon long enough to transfer it to the left. This enabled her to bring the blade across in a neck high swing as she stepped to her left. This swing connected with assailant number 2. 75 years of craftsmanship and 4 years of dedicated work on a single sword produced a blade that proved more than capable for the task of severing a punk rapist's head from his shoulders. Countless years of dedicated world-class level instruction along with daily practice and discipline ensured that Bek's skill and talent was worthy of the sword and was able to guide it true to it's goal. A second and a half into the confrontation and two out of five were down for the count.

"Shit!" was the only word said before the third punk was hit with a two-handed diagonal cut that started at his right hip and exited his left shoulder, traditionally the most difficult cut in Kenjitsu. For some reason, he was not all that thrilled at watching a master of her art, work in its truest medium of free flow combat. The count was now three and two, 2.5 seconds into the fight. The two assailants that were left were trying to figure out what was going on, and how could they turn the tide to win. She waded in toward them. She dropped down low and sent one of those impossibly long, shapely legs in a brutal leg sweep, knocking the tire iron guy to the concrete. Getting up would be hard with the shattered knee he received in the process. The screaming annoyed her so she crushed his throat with her heel as she stood.

"Now it's just you and me." The first words she spoke in the confrontation.

Mal was scared; this skinny bitch just killed his whole group, without a problem. Hell she even looked bored doing it! "We can work something out..." he started as he began backing away.

"You wanted a 'piece' of me, well, here I am, let's get to it!" She growled at him as she glided toward him, the sword in her right hand ready to lash out quick as a serpent's tongue. "I should give you the same mercy you gave your victims." The sword came up mid-sentence, a light flick of her wrist opening his throat. "That was far too much mercy for the likes of you." She wiped the blood from the blade in his hair as he clutched his throat, desperately trying to forestall the inevitable. Returning the katana to its sheath, she strolled on down toward the Jet and her meeting.

The Jet couldn't be more than 30'x40', its faded wood shingles falling haphazardly off the front in general disrepair. In the front half is the bar and half a dozen cracked red vinyl booths and an old jukebox playing late 60's bubble gum pop rock. Toward the back is another collection of small booths and a second door leading to the back alley. When Beks walked in, Pinto behind the bar remembered her, and even remembered her preferred drink, iced tea with lime. Pinto also remembered the look Beks gave her, I'm here on business, screen my visitors. Beks moved to the back section where she could see the front door and be close to the back exit. With her sunglasses still on, no one could tell where she was looking, but she could see some of the guys, and one or two girls, checking her out. She hoped she gave off some 'don't fuck with me' vibes. She was also hoping no one saw her hands shaking as she tried to pull herself back together. Contrary to observation, she didn't kill lightly, or easily. It would be better for her if it really were that way. She had a weird sort of personality disconnect though, while part of her mind sat back in horror as to what she just did, the other parts had no problem with it. All the years of training prevented any hesitation or flaw in the technique, her logical mind weighed the pros and cons of each act. Through it all, the voice of the little girl she once was wept at the price; her compassion, her trust, and quite possibly, she was afraid, her humanity.

She thought she saw one of the guys from this morning come in the door. As he scanned the room for her, she pulled one of the little auto knives from her boot and hid it in her hand, ready at a moment's notice in case this was a set up. She figured that a blade to the heart should buy her some maneuvering room if need be. About the same time he saw her, the woman walked into the Jet, going straight to the searcher. The pair came to Bek's table.

The guy from earlier today spoke first. "Ms Spada, thank you for giving up some of your valuable time this evening. May we sit?" Beks motioned to the empty chairs with her tea glass.

"We will cut straight to the chase, we have come to find another Immortal that once traveled with you. We have spent a great deal of time and heartache to find her. She's about 5'7", dark blonde, medium build, but the most striking feature is her eyes; they are a bright amber color. She has gone by quite a few names but the one we definitely know is her oldest is Johneen. We aren't looking to go after her head, we just need to talk to her. She can set the terms, the location. "

"What makes you think that I know where she is?"

"Well, the closest we can trace it back, we believe that she was your teacher about 110 years ago when you died your first death, Miss Rebecca Anne Spada, and then she dropped off the radar about 60 years ago." He replied, with a little smirk of satisfaction.

"Well since you seem to know so much about me, you have me at a disadvantage. It would be the polite thing to introduce yourselves."

"My name is Duncan Macleod of the Clan Macleod, and this is Willow, and I am so sorry for being so rude as to not introduce ourselves earlier." He said with a flourish, and an honestly apologetic tone.

At the introduction, Beks seemed to recognize the name Macleod but paid more attention to Willow. Willow had been watching her intently through the whole exchange. She seemed to be boring a hole right through Beks with her eyes. "And what's your story Willow?"

"Whatever it is 'Beks', I also know that we had the wrong info. You sure as hell are a fuckload older than 110 years!" she exclaimed, entering the conversation for the first time.

At her exclamation, Duncan took a step back, somewhat startled and placed his hand under his jacket on his sword.

"Wait a minute, you guys came to me, and then you claim I'm not who I'm supposed to be? You set this meeting up, not me. " she said as she moved the talon to position if she needed it.

"Look, what we need is to contact Johneen" the redhead spits out.

"Isn't gonna happen" replied Beks, a tinge of anger showing through in her voice.

"What you don't seem to understand, is that this needs to happen. We must find her; I must find her. And if I have to go through you, so be it" Willow replied, her voice going cold as ice.

To Be Continued


End file.
